Thank You to My Really Old Gym Shoeshttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=28007&blogid=142
A few weeks ago, a ridiculous thought occurred to me. I could not remember the last time I bought new gym shoes.]]>Stefanie_22016-05-31T14:28:53ZLia (Lehrer) Goldfarb

A few weeks ago, a ridiculous thought occurred to me. I could not remember the last time I bought new gym shoes.

I was looking down at my shoes, ready to show the elliptical who's boss (hint: not me), and I realized that I've owned those shoes for a very, very long time. I had no memory of buying sneakers after college. Did I buy them before college? Is there a chance that these well-loved shoes were more than 10 years old?

I think the "rules" say people should purchase new gym shoes every year or every other year, which meant that it was definitely time to buy a new pair. And now, as we speak, I'm breaking in some exciting new shoes just waiting to travel the world (or at least the inside of a workout room).

But all of a sudden, I'm feeling nostalgic for my old guys.

If you read my blogs, you might know I've become obsessed with
The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up
by Marie Kondo. One of the aspects of her book that make the haters hate hate hate hate hate is that Kondo recommends "thanking" each of your items before discarding them. Yes, it may be a little hokey to thank your oven mitts for a job well done, but it does make you feel less guilty about tossing them. "Thank you, oven mitts, for keeping my hands from getting burned as I baked cookies for my friends. But I don't need three pairs of oven mitts. I hope you make someone else very happy."

Thanking items before discarding them allows you to think about how items have more than their face value. Oven mitts lead to family gatherings. Dresses lead to memorable occasions. And gym shoes lead to health, fitness, and long walks with good friends.

So I'd like to use this post to thank my old gym shoes. It's truly been quite a journey. According to my Fitbit, which I've worn daily since November 2013, I've walked nearly 3,000 miles over the past three years. And these gym shoes have literally supported me every step of the way (except for those somewhat painful mid-workday walks with coworkers when I'm wearing flats).

These shoes have traveled with me around the globe -- to Israel, England, Holland, Belgium, Canada, Mexico, all over the United States, and throughout so many Chicago neighborhoods. They may have made me look like a tourist, but at least when I'm wearing them, I look like a happy tourist and not a "my feet are killing me so please don't make me ;go to one more stinkin' museum" tourist.

According to some exhaustive Facebook research, this is the first recorded photo of me in the shoes, taken while exploring downtown Chicago with my college roommates in September 2008:

These shoes have kept me comfortable, kept me walking, kept me exploring. They've been with me in probably more kinds of weather than is appropriate for non-rain boots.

So now, as the shoes are at least eight years old, worn and tattered, showing signs of retirement, I look ahead to my new friends for my feet:

And maybe I should set myself a reminder for this time next year to look into getting a new pair of -- gotta say it -- solemates.

2016-05-31
]]>Films About Tough Jewshttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27982&blogid=142
Yes, it’s a list, not a joke]]>Lindsey_22016-05-25T14:30:36ZYes, it's a list, not a jokePaul Wieder

Daniel Craig and Liev Schreiber as two tough Jews in 'Defiance.'

Back in 2002, a dude named
Adam Weitz
wrote a jokey list titled "Films about Tough Jews." The list, in its entirety, was:

The Ten Commandments
Casino

Hardy-har-har. Well, I just found that list this year, and I'm retroactively ticked off about it. There are a whole lot more movies about tough Jews than that. For the purposes of this list, we're going to keep it to Jews who show physical toughness, not just mental or emotional grit.

Movies about such tough Jews include the one about
Bugsy
Siegel and the one about Meyer
Lansky. Jewish mobsters
Moe Green
(based on Siegel) and
Hyman Roth
(based on Lansky) appear in the
Godfather
films, too. A Jewish mobster movie that aims at the epic proportions of
The Godfather
is
Once Upon a Time in America.

Jewish gangsters are even mentioned in the theme song to an
Elvis movie. In "Jailhouse Rock," which imagines "the whole cell block" busting into song and "the rhythm section" was composed of "the
Purple Gang."

The idea of "tough Jews" must include athletes, and they have been depicted on screen as well. There are boxers from
Daniel Mendoza
(back in the 1700s! No movie yet …) to
Barney Ross
and
Max Baer
(unfairly maligned in
Cinderella Man). The Israeli victims of the
Munich
Olympics massacre included three weightlifters and two wrestlers. Speaking of the Olympics, Chariots of Fire
features a Jewish athlete tough enough to compete in a race he didn't even train for … and, in a way, Ben-Hur becomes an athlete to compete in
that famous chariot race.

Then there are the "tough Jews" who are soldiers and rebels. There are some movies about the Warsaw Ghetto
Uprising
and other movies about
Defiance
against the Nazis. There are several about the early days of Israel, including the
Exodus
from Nazi Europe and the American Jewish general who
Cast a Giant Shadow
over the founding of the Jewish State. There are even two about
Operation Thunderbolt, in which Israeli soldiers achieved
Victory at Entebbe
over terrorist hijackers in Uganda.

Protecting the home front, Jewish police officers have appeared onscreen as well. Liev Schreiber plays a Chasidic cop on
Fading Gigolo, Melanie Griffith goes undercover in a Chasidic community in
A Stranger Among Us, and Andy Garcia investigates an anti-Semitic murder in
Homicide
(There is still room for a Jewish firefighter movie…).

It's harder to find Jewish characters in science-fiction, superhero and fantasy movies, but they are out there. While his heritage is not as well-known as his origin, Ben Grimm, a.k.a. The Thing -- a member of the Fantastic Four -- is Jewish. And I challenge you to find a tougher Jew than one who can
stop a semi
with his literally rock-solid shoulder.

Tough Jews -- in the heat of competition and on both sides of the law -- have been depicted
time
and
time
(and time) again in the movies. So if you want me to keep listing them, well, as the superhero says,
"I could do this all day."

(OK, so Captain America, while he was dreamt up by Jewish artists, isn't Jewish himself. But he did do
this.)

I was on my way to a work event and needed something to give me a little boost of energy. I quickly ducked into a CVS with the intention of grabbing a diet soda -- a little caffeine boost would do the trick. As I entered through the automatic doors, all the beverages were immediately to the right: Milk, then juice, then, here we go -- soda. I was in a hurry and quickly scanned my options, settling on Diet Wild Cherry Pepsi -- a real treat because most places don't carry it.

I turned around and headed for the registers, passing by the chips, cookies, and -- wait a minute -- out of the corner of my eye was the candy aisle. It's as if, they knew my weaknesses and placed it right in my path. I wasn't hungry, but somehow found myself stopping, turning away from the register and now walking into a sugary sweet display of all the most dangerous choices.

I fixated on the display of gummy candies, which I am convinced are singlehandedly responsible for putting my dentist's kids through college. I zeroed in on a bag of those fruit slices with the sugary topping glistening in the store lights. At $1.49 a bag, I contemplated whether it would be justifiable to buy the whole bag, eat only a few of them and then throw the rest away. I reached out and grabbed onto one of the bags, the plastic crinkling as I started to pull it off the shelf.

Then I said to myself,

I don't know if I need this right now. There will be other food at this event, so why do I need to eat this right now. The diet soda will give me the pick-me-up I am craving right now. Walk away now and go buy the soda.

I released the package from my grip, took a step back, a deep breath and turned back toward the register.

"Did you find everything you need okay?" said the cashier.

I am sure I walked out of there with everything I needed, but my mouth was still salivating at his question, because I was thinking about biting into one of those fruit slices. I was imagining how the sugar would have tingled on my tongue as soon as I put it in my mouth.

I muttered some kind of neutral response but I don't remember what it was. I was feeling too ashamed about my episode with the candy in aisle four. Sure I had stopped myself this time, but other times before that day, I had not chosen to stop. On my way out, I began to wonder if I ever came in for a diet soda at all, or if my subconscious plan was to sniff out the candy aisle all along.

This study tracked contestants from Season 8 for six years after their dramatic weight loss to find that most had regained some if not all of the weight they lost on the show. Furthermore, the research found that major changes had occurred in each of their resting metabolisms after their extreme weight loss. In short, their bodies seemed to be working against them when it came to maintaining their dramatic feats of weight loss even more so than before they lost the weight in the first place.

Andy in 2005

I saw this article pop up in my social media feeds a lot; it brought on a strong reaction from many people. Over 2,700 people have directly commented on the article and I am sure thousands more have read it. I am not a scientist or nutrition expert, so I can't speak to the science behind what this research shows, but having lost over 100 pounds and worked to maintain that loss for over four years, I can definitely speak to it from my own personal experience.

If you read between the lines, this article tells the story of what draws us to the stories of these Biggest Losers. Those of us who want to see those pounds go away but feel helpless to stop ourselves from overeating find hope in the stories of the contestants on the show. If they can do it, so can we. We then find comfort in our own failures when we hear that even
they
couldn't keep the weight off. And finally, when we learn from the research that it's not them (or us) it's our metabolism that is to blame, that removes the guilt and shame from ever having this problem in the first place.

Sadly, none of this does anything to help. Whether we dive head first and guilt-free into a piece of chocolate cake or sit quietly in the corner, stuffing it into our faces fighting back shameful tears, we are still eating chocolate cake. If we eat enough of it, we will likely gain weight.

To be clear, I don't believe that eating cake or gummy candies or anything "bad for you" is a mortal sin, regardless of what may or may not happen to your body. I'm just pointing out that changes to our behaviors and habits must be a piece of changing our bodies. At the same time, I am also not interested in reducing what for me was a complex, physical and emotional journey to an oversimplified scientific finding, fad diet or the notion that walking away from the candy aisle made all the difference.

After struggling with food for almost my entire life, I have found that food issues and challenges with weight are immensely more layered and nuanced than a lot of popular media would suggest. I would love to see more articles that remove the stigmas around being fat, so we can have more honest conversation about how to take responsibility for eating our way to the healthiest versions of ourselves. If we can't talk openly about this then how will we truly know what we are losing for anyway?

2016-05-23
]]>Haters Don’t Gotta Hatehttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27883&blogid=142
“I hate you.” These are powerful words. They can ruin years of relationship development in two seconds.]]>Lindsey_22016-05-18T15:19:56ZThe secret recipe for conflict resolution, according to the TorahJoshua Marder

"I hate you."

These are powerful words. They can ruin years of relationship development in two seconds. All the breakthroughs and trust painstakingly earned can all come to a halt. And yet what's the alternative? Just hold it in? Let it stew and get worse as the days go by? Hatred is such a strong negative feeling and seemingly the sign of a relationship doomed for failure -- disastrous if you express it and explosive if you don't.

To add confusion and kindling to this quandary, it happens all the time. Teenagers scream "I hate you!" (or other more flowery terminology …) at their parents. Spouses often feel if not express loathsome feelings toward their significant other after feeling despair, hurt, loneliness, or anger in their relationship. Yet sharing these feelings seems so counterproductive. Can't we just ignore it and get over it or maneuver around it?

Here's some advice, "Don't hate."

The great solution we've all been dreaming of: Don't hate! That would basically remedy the relationship-hatred-challenge … except it's not in touch with reality. We do hate, and we don't really have access to an internal switch that turns it off.

The Torah offers a beautiful insight into this emotional challenge. It doesn't simply say, "don't hate," rather it says, "don't hate … in your heart."

Our heart represents our private inner thoughts. It's kind of our internal chamber for thinking to ourselves. Using a bit of logic, this means if I
tell
the person I hate them, then I'm no longer hating them in my heart. So the Torah seems to be saying I should go tell them, "I hate you," right?

Well, the verse continues. "Rebuke your fellow…" Ok, fantastic, I'll give him a piece of my mind. But then it continues further, " …and do not carry on him a sin."

One could understand this to mean you can't blame the other person or put the fault on him. You might hate him with good reason. He did X, Y -- and Z too! But here comes the clincher: There is another side to every experience. You need to tell him that you are feeling so hurt, sad, angry, and sometimes even stronger negative feelings towards him (i.e. hatred). But you also need to tell him, "I don't understand why you did this to me. I feel inclined to blame you, but I'm told (by the Almighty) not to blame you. So could you please explain to me what in the world happened?"

That sounds difficult, and yes, it is. But imagine what it would do for you and the other person?

The Torah continues, "… Don't bear a grudge." How could I not bear a grudge? Well, if you followed the rules of sharing your inner pain and hard feelings (no hatred in the heart), without blaming the other (rebuke without carrying a sin on him), then you will be able to get over your grudge too. And best of all, you will find a newfound stronger place of love between each other, as the verse continues, "Love thy neighbor (i.e. this newfound friend) as yourself."

2016-05-18
]]>Feeling the Tefilahhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27875&blogid=142
Essentially, I've grown up with tefilah (prayer) -- that I know -- but have I become a grownup with tefilah?]]>Lindsey_22016-05-12T15:52:58ZMy constantly changing relationship to prayerEliana Block

It's 4 p.m. on Thursday and the house is currently cleared of the 14 relatives who will crowd around the stovetop asking for seconds on matzah ball soup. But we've still got time -- time to make roast and
tzimmus, matzah farfel and broccoli, sweep the floor, wash the floor (since its sticky from unattended juice boxes bulldozed with petite feet of the same size) and set the table. Mom needs time without foot traffic, so the house is empty except for her and me. But the hours slip seamlessly like the Jewish CD that's flipping from track to track.

Soon the twins will be back and there are calls for "Bubbie, Bubbie" and sounds of the fridge door yawning open and winding back. Suddenly, I remember the presents I bought for my 7 (and three-fifths)-year-old nephews. They "wait right there" while I claim the rectangle boxes from my bedroom. They stare at the name-engraved siddurs, exactly the same, except that one is beige and the other brown -- fraternal twins, like the boys.

As they stand, thanking me as per custom, I cannot help but imagine they're disappointed that my gift doesn't come with preprogrammed games and lacks an "on" button.

Someone says they'll grow into it. And I wonder -- at nearly 22 -- have I grown into it? Essentially, I've grown up with
tefilah
(prayer) -- that I know -- but have I become a grownup with
tefilah?

Age: 5 -- feeling sneaky

It's so quiet that I can hear the fluorescent lights hum in the sanctuary. Kayla's laughing next to me. She's smirking -- her siddur's covering her mouth -- but I can see it in her eyes. I start to laugh too because her mom doesn't know we're mouthing the words "bubblegum, bubblegum" over and over. Her mom thinks were praying the silent
Shmone Esrei prayer, and gives us an approving grin. We're rocking back and forth, mumbling our "bubblegums," trying to fit in. We laugh because we'll probably be rewarded with stickers on our Mitzvah Charts.

Age: 11 -- feeling high

I am one of the only girls -- and by far the oldest -- traveling round and round the
bimah
(stage) on my dad's shoulders. It's Simchat Torah, the yearly celebration upon completing the five books of Torah, and we're 40 minutes into the huddled parade. Dad shifts me every couple of minutes. With 75 pounds above him, the 52-year-old calls to my older brother for backup. A man hugging a Torah shouts a prayer and suddenly, I am tossed into the air squealing peals of laughter with other children. Together we look like sautéing vegetables, flicking and falling in a chef's skillet. Somewhere over the divider, my mother is covering her mouth, complaining that the ceiling fans are too low.

Age: 14 -- feeling bored

I don't know how reading from the Torah became a popularity contest, but it just does. We're eighth graders, and though we feel on top of the world, in years to come, we'll cover up these pictures and declare "it was my awkward stage." I'm a goofy eighth grader and look to entertain myself in the classroom we converted into a makeshift prayer space. I ask the teacher supervising services if she has a band-aid. She checks the desk drawers and declares that there aren't any. I ask if she can please find me one. She leaves the room. While she's gone, I go behind the desk and rifle through the confiscated items inside its drawers. I remove rubber bands and popsicle sticks, and stash them away inside the kangaroo pouch of my Tommy Hilfiger sweatshirt. The teacher returns 60 seconds later with a band-aid and a "just in case" band-aid. I begin to craft a slingshot and shoot rubber bands over the
mechitzah
(dividing curtain). Popular kids laugh and I'm no longer bored.

There's a circular sunroof just above the
bimah
that transforms the chem student reading from the Torah into a radiating Hercules. I imagine a ginormous hand reaching through the skylight -- like a hand unclogging a drain or King Kong plucking Ann Darrow -- and pulling him through the orb. Someone says a blessing, and I remember I'm supposed to focus. It is in this room, the upstairs sanctuary of Hillel, that I took an oath as a freshman to pray in daily, an oath I compromised to visit on Tuesdays and Thursdays as a sophomore and forgot entirely as a junior. Only the digital pestering of Facebook reminders brought me here on this Saturday morning. It's hard to ignore when there's a partnership minyan approaching, especially when you're friends with the people who organize partnership minyanim. It's even easier to get suckered into taking leadership roles. I approach the
bimah
while cursing myself for doing this. Grasp. Dip. Bend. Straighten. Someone spots me as I lift the Torah high, nearly touching the circle. I return to my seat feeling oddly empowered as the first woman to do
hagbah
(lifting the Torah) in Hillel during a partnership minyan.

Back to Pesach.It's the last day of the holiday and I'm waiting for Bubbie to finish breakfast so we can go to shul. I know this won't be quick. I grab a white siddur from the bookshelf and start from the beginning. After only 10 minutes of living room seclusion, I hear small feet patter and stop in front of me. I glance up and see one of my nephews. I look back down and continue, trying to convey that the proper respect for prayer is avoiding interruptions.

"Mom!" He shouts, though the kitchen is a few yards away. "Where's my siddur?" he asks.

Even though it seems like it was only a year ago, I'm about to have another birthday.

But this is no ordinary birthday. No, no, no. Not only is this the first birthday I'm going to celebrate without all of my baby teeth (I misplaced them on the bus), but it's also the fifth anniversary of my 24th birthday. So yeah, I'm going to be 29. I hope it will be a birthday to remember since I can't remember the last 28.

But fear not my generous Oy! enthusiasts, for I have a surefire plane to make sure this birthday is one for the books! That book being "The Book of Things Adam Kind of Makes Up to Make His Life More Awesome: Part 1." Journey with me.

I've never been big on birthdays. I'm usually normal size. But birthdays don't have the same profound impact on me as I've seen them have on others. I tend to care more for unique celebratory milestones,
like when I celebrated turning 10,000 days old, or when I take a moment to
enjoy some of the small things life throws my way. But this year, I'm quite looking forward to my birthday because it will be -- in my twisted logic -- the longest birthday I've ever had to perfectly accommodate the age that I will become.

You ready for this? Read on. Or read the title of the article. That's a dead giveaway. But then read on.

You see, I am fortunate enough to be going on a vacation this year to the most important state in the union, Hawaii, which is important because it helps make our flag look balanced. I mean, a 49 star flag -- that would be outrageous, egregious, and preposterous.

When I am in the Aloha State, a phrase which here means, "a quiet laugh," (Get it? A-low-ha. Heh heh … I'll see myself out) I will be celebrating my 29th birthday. I'll be doing this on May 12, because that's when my birthday is. I know because I was there.

But here's the thing, when in Hawaii the time zone difference from Chicago is 5 hours. So that means when it is 7 p.m. on May 11, Hawaii time, it will be 12 a.m. on May 12 Chicago time. So in a way, that is when my birthday is technically going to be starting. However, given that I am on Hawaii time, I fully intend to still consider the full day of May 12 -- all 24 hours of it -- as my birthday on top of the aforementioned additional time.

Do you see it? If you see it, that's great. You're amazing. You're basically
mishpacha (family). If you don't, let me do some math for you so you can become mishpacha.

Let's break it down. My actual birthday is 24 hours long, but to everyone I know in Chicago, it will be starting five hours earlier since I will be in Hawaii. Mostly based on the fact that I know my Dad will be wishing me a happy birthday right at midnight Chicago time, it is safe to say that we can add five hours of celebratory shenaniganery to my normally 24-hour birthday.

So, 5 hours + 24 hours = 29 hours. And it's my 29th birthday.

I couldn't make this up. I couldn't have planned it. But if this was going to happen to anyone, it was going to happen be me. This blows the idea of a Golden Birthday (when I turned 12 on May 12) out of the water. Or my reverse birthday every year (again, given I was born on May 12, my reverse birthday is December 5). It's like some
amazing, unbelievable, coincidence! (That's a previously written blog that came out last year -- on my birthday! It just keeps going!)

But when I had the realization that on my 29th birthday I would be having a 29-hour birthday, my jaw hit the floor. It was because I had tripped. But when I got back up, I immediately had to write this Oy! blog, which you are reading right now to immortalize my incessant dorkiness with the way I view the world and the fun moments that are hidden within the everyday ones. It was short. It was sweet. It took me about 29 hours to write ... it just keeps going!

2016-05-11
]]>Mission completehttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27857&blogid=142
My Grandpa Max passed away this spring -- on his 93rd birthday. According to Jewish wisdom, dying on the same day that you're born is a blessing. In fact, Moses was said to have died on his 120th birthday. The Talmud teaches us that God calculates and completes the lifespan of a righteous person.]]>Lindsey_22016-05-09T15:01:50ZCindy Sher

Grandpa Max with Grandma Rita -- married 68 years -- circa the late 1950s.

My Grandpa Max passed away this spring -- on his 93rd birthday.

According to Jewish wisdom, dying on the same day that you're born is a blessing. In fact, Moses was said to have died on his 120th birthday. The Talmud teaches us that God calculates and completes the lifespan of a righteous person.

Jewish scholars say that righteous people are charged with a mission at their birth: To live their lives to the fullest potential and finish their mission completely. The mission ends on the very same day it was begun.

So that means Grandpa passed away on the exact day he was supposed to.

My grandpa -- my dad's dad -- was a mensch who lived his life with dignity and integrity. A kind, humble, generous, and gentle soul with the driest wit.

It was the way he loved and teased my grandma for 68 years.

It was the way he would interact with people at the deli counter, Grandma's beauty parlor, or the convenience store where he bought his lottery tickets, how he'd disarm them with a joke.

It was the way he would rarely sign his paintings, because he didn't care to take credit for his work.

It was the way he served in combat during World War II on the beaches of the Philippines and in the jungles of New Guinea.

When he returned to Long Island after the war, he met my grandma, set up by their two sisters who dreamed up their shidduch (match) at a canasta game. Max worked long hours in the family school supply factory in Manhattan. He would bring home for his two sons -- and later his four granddaughters -- notebooks and pencils with our names etched on them.

He never went to college, but he read voraciously, and seemed to know just about everything. Every day, my grandma would do the crossword puzzle, and any time she didn't know an answer, she would enlist the help of her Max. Whether it was a baseball player, an obscure politician, or even the name of a 1990s boy band member -- somehow Grandpa knew the answer.

In his free time, he loved to paint, especially portraits of the people he loved; Max would capture not only their physical likeness, but their spirit too.

When I'd come to visit, we'd paint canvases with his special acrylics; I'd get frustrated when my artwork, unlike Grandpa's, looked nothing like the person I was painting. But Grandpa would always tell me they were beautiful. I knew that they weren't, but I also knew that Grandpa believed that they were because he only saw the good in his granddaughters.

In the summertime, Grandpa and I would stroll along the boardwalk near Grandma and Grandpa's home in Long Island. We'd sometimes chat about school and friends and other times just walk in silence, smelling the seaweed and ocean air, and listening to the soothing crashing of the waves. For my grandpa was a man who was comfortable with silences, and who only spoke when he had something to say.

Each one of us have our own Grandpa Max, people we miss every day, people that paved the way for us, who live on in us forever.

My other grandfather, Harry, died two weeks before my second birthday.

Even though I didn't get the chance to know Grandpa Harry, he always held this superhero status in my mind and heart. After all, my grandma, my mom, and other people who knew and loved him would constantly nourish me with stories about him, about his decency and his moral compass.

A Jewish socialist, he immigrated to the States from Russia in the early part of the 20th century. Here, he met my maternal grandma and they bought a farm in Wisconsin, where they raised cattle, corn, two sons, and a daughter. He and my Grandma loved Israel and he insisted on investing their meager savings in Israel's early days. Harry would say, "If this is worth nothing, then our lives are worth nothing."

Grandpa Harry died 36 years before Grandpa Max. These last few weeks, since Max died, I keep envisioning my two grandfathers, who had been fond of each other back when my parents were first courting, reunited with each other now. I bet that they, along with my late grandma, are enjoying each other's company and making each other laugh.

Death has this way of making us take stock of our lives. When our loved ones die, in the best of worlds, their passing makes those of us they leave behind want to live our lives with even more purpose and integrity. Like Grandpa Max and Grandpa Harry, the really great ones inspire us to live our lives to our fullest potentials, to complete our own missions.

2016-05-09
]]>Learning to Be an Upstanderhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27853&blogid=142
My papa, Ralph Rehbock, has been the greatest influencer and teacher in my life. Since surviving the Holocaust as a young boy, he has never been shy speaking about his past, or about teaching the lessons of the Holocaust as a member of Illinois Holocaust Museum & Education Center’s Speakers’ Bureau.]]>Lindsey_22016-05-06T11:20:20ZCarly Rehbock

My papa, Ralph Rehbock, has been the greatest influencer and teacher in my life. Since surviving the Holocaust as a young boy, he has never been shy speaking about his past, or about teaching the lessons of the Holocaust as a member of Illinois Holocaust Museum & Education Center's Speakers' Bureau.

Carly and her grandparents

As a young girl, I was -- and still am -- captivated by his story of survival, including the historical learning that indulges my love of history, while still sharing life lessons in kindness, the importance of helping strangers, and taking a stand against injustice. His experiences and his lifelong dedication to spreading knowledge of the Holocaust have inspired me to be a better person and take action against injustice, and hopefully I can encourage others to do the same.

As a direct descendent of a survivor, I know how important it is to keep the story of the Holocaust alive. As the number of survivors dwindles, their stories are being told less and less.

Ralph as a boy with his parents, Ruth and Hans

Considering he fled Germany when he was only 4 years old, my Papa's survival story was different than the narratives that I had learned in school. We were taught the stories of Anne Frank and Elie Wiesel, to name a few -- stories of concentration camps, Nazi invasions and the struggles of trying to hide as a Jewish person in Nazi Germany. I grew up believing that my Papa's story was atypical, and did not sound like all of the other survivor stories that I had been taught. As I grew older -- and wiser -- I learned how untrue that was.

My papa never had to hide in an attic like Anne Frank; he never had to survive a concentration camp as Elie Wiesel did. He did, however, have his life disrupted and completely changed due to the events of the Holocaust.

In 1938, while he and his family were visiting the American embassy in Berlin in order to get visas to come to the U.S., the Nazis invaded his home in Gotha. That was the night of Kristallnacht, the "Night of Broken Glass," when Jewish shops, buildings and synagogues were destroyed and their homes ransacked.

After going underground for a couple of weeks, my great-grandfather was able to hide in a plane bound for London, where he met up with his brother. A short time after, my papa and his mother went to board a train to England to meet him, but when they arrived at the train station they ran into Nazi soldiers who called "all Jews out!" and strip-searched them, including my papa and great-grandmother.

Ralph and his mother, Ruth Nussbaum Rehbock

Then a total stranger happened upon them and said, "when I signal you by tipping my hat, run with me." They had no reason to trust this man, but my great-grandmother made a split second decision, took my papa by the hand and ran with him. This stranger happened to know the exact time a train was passing that was heading for the Dutch border, which had not yet been invaded by the Nazis. The three of them ran across the tracks and jumped onto the moving train, which eventually led my papa and his mother to safety, first in England where they met up with my great-grandfather, and then ultimately in America. To this day, the destination of the train that they were supposed to take is still unknown.

My papa and his family survived due to the kindness of a stranger, and because of that, his story became less about his survival, and more about the ability of individuals to take a stand for humanity.

Today, my papa serves as vice president of the Illinois Holocaust Museum, which encourages visitors to "be 'Upstanders,' not bystanders," and the way my papa tells his story demonstrates how essential that adage is. I have chosen to live my life as an "Upstander" and I attribute that to all he has taught me.

Because of him, I strive to be as involved as I can with the museum. In college, I interned in the museum's collections department, where I spent my days immersed in the stories of survivors and the artifacts that were left behind. The allure of this internship was in part to advance my knowledge of the Holocaust (I was a history major), and more importantly, it was a way to be closer to my papa. I realized that interning at the museum was simply not enough for me. I wanted to do more, and to make a difference, just as my papa had always taught me.

Family photograph of the Nussbaum-Rehbock family, taken on June 27, 1937, in Gotha, Germany. Ralph (Rolf) is the boy in the center.

Eventually I became part of Generation2Generation. G2G is a group focused on teaching the stories of Holocaust survivors long after they are gone. My G2G partner, Holocaust survivor Doris Fogel, has introduced me to a side of the Holocaust that I didn't even know existed.

Doris and her family were part of a small group of survivors who lived out the war in a ghetto, in Japanese-occupied Shanghai, China. Each time we meet, I learn more about Doris' childhood and her eight years spent with about 23,000 displaced Jews. Just like my papa's story, Doris' story is not traditional, yet it is an incredible example of survival and strength.

Generation2Generation has allowed me to cultivate a relationship with Doris and dozens of other survivors, with the promise that we, as G2G partners, will continue to bring life to their stories for many years to come.

My proudest accomplishment to date, however, has been becoming co-chair of the Illinois Holocaust Museum's new Young Professional Committee that hosts fundraising and friend-raising programs to support the mission of the museum. This role has offered me the opportunity to spread knowledge and awareness of the Holocaust, and stress the importance of taking action, just as my papa impressed upon me and so many others.

Everything that my papa has taught me has prepared me for this role. His influence has been so obvious in my life, and I would like to take this opportunity to thank him. I thank him for believing in me and helping me to get to where I am today and I thank him for sharing his story and inspiring me to be a better person and an Upstander. I hope that my achievements are making him proud, as I have been proud of him since I was old enough to understand his story and its many lessons.

2016-05-06
]]>Ich Bein a Judenhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27846&blogid=142
My grandfather’s Judaism called to him when he was 16. It was 1942. His family had emigrated to America decades earlier and he was living the American Dream.]]>Lindsey_22016-05-05T14:17:03ZHow Judaism called to my grandfathers during World War IIElana Berlin

My grandfather's Judaism called to him when he was 16. It was 1942. His family had emigrated to America decades earlier and he was living the American Dream. They lived in a spacious apartment in the Bronx alongside Pelham Bay Park. He attended public school, hardly ever went to synagogue and was happily assimilated. Yet when relatives told stories they'd heard of Jews being rounded up and killed in the very European towns they had left behind, something in him stirred.

He tried to enlist in the Army, but was turned away due to his age. A few months later he turned 17 and tried again, this time in the Navy. They didn't check his age quite as carefully and he was selected for the Underwater Demolition Teams, the forerunner of today's Navy Seals. He carried out missions from submarines in the waters of Northern Europe and swam first onto the beach at Normandy to blow up the barricades that prevented the landing craft from deploying troops.

My grandfather Melvin

My grandfather likes to tell a story from after Normandy when he met a captured German officer aboard an aircraft carrier. The officer was laughing and smoking with some troops, acting as if he was "one of the guys." When he asked my grandfather why he was so sour, my grandfather replied in his broken Yiddish, "Ich bein a Juden" ("I am a Jew"). He says the officer's face turned dark and he didn't say another word.

My other grandfather, on my mother's side, heard his Judaism call to him when he was 12. He was living in a very small rural village in Lithuania. For months, his family had heard of round-ups of Jews -- and they were coming closer to their village. When they finally came, they were told by the S.S. that they would be re-settled, but my grandfather's family chose otherwise -- they escaped into the surrounding forest.

For four years they lived in the wilderness, facing hunger every day, frostbite in the winters and surprise raids by German units combing the forest for them. Two of my grandfather's siblings fought with the partisans, and one was killed shortly before the war's end, betrayed by her Polish compatriots. My grandfather lost siblings, nieces, nephews and friends -- and his youth.

He tells a story of smuggling food into the forest that he'd stolen from an outlying farm. He was returning alone with his bounty late at night when a pack of wolves began stalking him. He reached into his pocket and grabbed his grenade, the only weapon he had, believing it would be better to die like that than to be eaten by wolves. It was then, he says, that he felt the hand of God on his shoulder, and he knew that he would survive the night, and the forest.

My grandfather Larry (left) and family.

Most of his family survived the forest and eventually came to the U.S., but one family member who did not was his sister, for whom I was named and whose name I carry proudly today.

Both of my grandfathers' stories weigh heavily on my heart and mind. I constantly think about how we, in this generation can perpetuate their stories and achievements, as well as the memories of those we have lost.

I have chosen a career in the Jewish world to try and do what I can to strengthen our community, ensure that we have opportunities to remain a growing, vibrant and strong Jewish people. My previous work at the JDC brought me great pride; I was working for an organization that was instrumental in helping my grandfather, as well as millions of others, after the war ended. And now, living in Chicago with my husband and working at JCC Chicago, I am impressed with the breadth of opportunities available to families, young adults and children here. We are living in a strong community where we can be proud of our Jewishness and have spaces to celebrate it -- something that previous generations were not always able to experience.

Our Judaism calls to each of us. Sometimes it is a call of conscience or a call for help; sometimes it is a call to life or a call to spirit; sometimes it is a shout and sometimes a whisper; sometimes we must seek it out, and sometimes it seeks us out, whether we want it to or not.

The question for each of us is, how will we answer when it does?

2016-05-05
]]>My Grandfather the Barberhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27835&blogid=142
I first remember learning about the Holocaust when I was 5 years old. Sitting in my grandparents’ living room, the camera crew entered with all of their equipment and I sat quietly on the couch with the rest of my family as we waited for the interviewer to begin asking my grandfather questions.]]>Lindsey_22016-05-03T13:37:25ZLizzy Scheinkopf

I first remember learning about the Holocaust when I was 5 years old. Sitting in my grandparents' living room, the camera crew entered with all of their equipment and I sat quietly on the couch with the rest of my family as we waited for the interviewer to begin asking my grandfather questions.

Steven Spielberg's Shoah Foundation had contacted my grandfather about sharing his experience surviving three concentration camps during World War II. At the time, I knew that this was something important to my family, but I had little context for how and why this would have a major impact on my life.

My grandfather was one of the sole Holocaust survivors in his family. Prior to his deportation at the age of 23, he had lived in Plonsk, Poland, where he and an older brother worked as barbers. His family was placed into a ghetto before making the agonizing transport to Auschwitz in 1941. At Auschwitz, where he spent the majority of his captivity, his job was to cut the hair of the arriving prisoners -- stripping them of their identities as they entered the camp. The Nazis considered this necessary in order to carry out their plans of dehumanizing and eliminating the Jews of Europe, and that made my grandfather a crucial commodity to the Nazis. He was given extra food in order to stay strong enough to cut hair. So it was being a barber that kept him alive.

In January 1945, my grandfather was taken on a death march to Mauthausen and then later to Ebensee in Austria, where he was liberated by the Americans in May. My grandfather -- even in the face of death -- was incredibly lucky to survive the atrocities and horrors of the Holocaust.

Whenever we learned about the Holocaust in school and religious school, I was always quick to raise my hand and share my grandfather's story. I knew that having this family history was something that set me apart from many of my peers and I often wondered if they could grasp the gravity of what my grandfather had gone through, even though I never could. My mind always returned to one thing: an awareness that had my grandfather not survived, I would not be alive. I still grapple with this notion to this day as I talk about and continue to process my grandfather's experience.

Today, my grandfather is 96 years old. He is still cutting hair at his barber shop in West Rogers Park and he refuses to retire. He believes that his work is what keeps him going every day and if you ask him, he will tell you that he has enough money to pay the bills and to keep the shop running and that is all that he needs.

Forced work kept my grandfather alive in the camps, but now it is his own personal choice to work, and he chooses to do the work that has shaped his entire life. My family believes that his work is what keeps him alive. Despite his lack of hearing, he is still as sharp as a tack, and when you set him loose in a shopping mall, he will take off like he's running a marathon.

As I've gotten older, my grandfather has shared more and more about his past. This usually happens at the dinner table when he and my 90-year-old grandmother tell my brother and me what life was like in the old country. In college, I interviewed him for a class about workers in America and I enjoyed talking with him about his love for the barber shop and his commitment to his customers, some of whom are the third generation of their families to sit in his barber chair. He is truly an inspiring and resilient individual and I am proud to call him my grandfather.

As a Social Studies teacher, I also share my grandfather's story with my students. I remind them that although the Holocaust was an event in history, it is still so painfully tangible today in the lives of survivors and their families. I share his story to encourage my students to not be bystanders. I share his story to spread love and acceptance. I share his story because if I don't, who else will?

2016-05-03
]]>The ultimate act of defiancehttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27824&blogid=142
I am the grandson of Holocaust survivors who were lucky enough to escape the Nazis.]]>Lindsey_22016-04-27T14:52:33ZMichael B. Bregman

I am the grandson of Holocaust survivors who were lucky enough to escape the Nazis. My grandma and grandpa narrowly dodged the concentration camps where many Jews, including family members, would perish. Though they survived, they lost everything. Money, property, educations, careers -- all lost. After scraping by for almost 10 years in the Jewish ghetto of Shanghai, my grandparents made their way to Chicago to begin life anew. But the thoughts of what "could have been," and resentment for the pain inflicted upon them, would never completely go away.

The author’s grandparents on their wedding day in Shanghai, China, Nov. 30, 1947.

Growing up, my grandma repeatedly shared stories about her experiences. How things changed when Hitler came to power. Her father's arrest on Kristallnacht. The slow boat to China. The cramped living quarters that they shared with family members. Her bout with typhoid. The devastating and lethal bombing raids by the Allies. Her father's job managing the Jewish district's cafeteria. Right down to the food they ate and the songs they sang, my grandma stamped the stories of her experiences into my conscience. As I would listen, the sense of her loss was palpable. Something intangible was destroyed that could not be recovered. Even at a young age, I remember being angry and confused at how such a sick drama could play out in real life, and sharing in her bitterness at what had been done to our family -- simply because we were Jewish.

Even today, though my grandparents are no longer with us, I continue to carry their stories with me, and I share them every chance I get. My grandpa always said that my brother and I were his reward for a very challenging and tumultuous life. My wife and I recently welcomed our first child into the world -- his first name is Zachary, which means "to remember," and his middle name is Jacob, for my grandfather. For me, the only act of defiance as powerful as telling my grandpa's story is to keep his family going strong -- and to always remember.

Now, more than 75 years after the Holocaust, justice for Nazi horrors is nearly impossible even as aging Nazis are being put on trial to answer for the atrocities at Auschwitz and elsewhere. For the typical 20- or 30-something, who is finishing her education, forging a career, or starting a family, outlets for meaningful Holocaust remembrance and education must be -- and are -- available.

Michael Bregman, as a baby, with his grandparents.

That is why I could not be prouder and more excited to be a part of the Young Professional Committee of the Illinois Holocaust Museum and Education Center in Skokie. Founded by Holocaust survivors who regularly lead tours of the museum's exhibits, the museum is a permanent testament to the tragedies of the Holocaust and the stories of people just like my grandma and grandpa. The newly formed YPC is comprised of young professionals of diverse backgrounds. The up-and-coming community leaders of the YPC are taking up the mission of raising funds and awareness for the museum in order to preserve the legacy of our Holocaust survivors and to confront bigotry and intolerance in all its forms.

The responsibility to ensure that the experiences of my family and other families are not forgotten is as crucial as ever. Today we bear witness to virulent anti-Semitism in Europe and the rest of the world. The ignorance of Holocaust denial must be confronted urgently and immediately as it surfaces -- and in perpetuity. Telling the stories and educating future generations is the ultimate act of defiance and the best way to ensure that the tragic history of the Holocaust does not repeat itself. The YPC and the Illinois Holocaust Museum and Education Center are committed, with your help, to doing just that.

Michael B. Bregman is an attorney in Chicago with the firm of Ruff, Freud, Breems & Nelson, Ltd., and is an annual Co-Chair of the Young Professional Committee of the Illinois Holocaust Museum and Education Center.

The Illinois Holocaust Museum and Education Center is a special grantee of the Jewish United Fund of Metropolitan Chicago.

2016-04-27
]]>My Wonderful Little Monstershttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27817&blogid=142
I cannot believe one of my sons is about to graduate from daycare. I know this does not sound like a milestone, but it is.]]>Lindsey_22016-04-27T14:21:33ZRon Krit

I cannot believe one of my sons is about to graduate from daycare. I know this does not sound like a milestone, but it is. I have watched an only child become an awesome brother (most of the time), and subsequently observed the start of an amazing bond, complete with unusual rituals.

One nightly ritual in my house is the running of circles. Ever since Henry, my oldest, could walk, he ran in circles. He doesn't even need anyone to chase him -- that's just his preferred method. And clothing (for him and his little brother, Joel) is optional, which I hear is very normal for kids under 5.

I'm also relieved that Joel can now chase Henry, because running around your house in tight circles while holding a 20-pound toddler is a scary workout. If you regularly read my posts, you know the exercise part of the equation is great for me, but the fear of falling is not. I'm happy to say, in almost two years of running with Joel, that has not happened, and he loves it.

Wrestling is another favorite family activity. When my nephews are over, the two of them, along with Henry, put on shows for us. Seeing as WWE wrestlers look like they are only wearing underwear, so are the boys. They run around and use props, like pillows, foam rollers, and couches. It's hard not to cringe when a child jumps off a couch and on to another person, but so far there have been no injuries and only a few tears.

Now Joel and Henry wrestle. It's hilarious. The almost-2-year-old is fearless, and Henry is gentle as Joel lies on top of him. At this point it's really sweet, and they laugh the entire time. In a few years it might not be so good-natured.

The loudest time at our house is meal time. I'm not sure where my kids get it, but they like to eat. We are so lucky that they ask for fish and vegetables. Henry loves sushi; it's hilarious how mad he gets if I eat more rolls than him. Joel is too young for sushi, but he does enjoy the veggie variety. He has recently started yelling at meals for no reason other than he thinks it funny. Henry also thinks it funny so he joins in.

One of the hardest parts of parenting is not laughing when you need to discipline your kids, and this is one of those times. Watching an 18-month-old squeal with food shooting out of his mouth is pretty funny; add a 4-year-old in the mix, and it's great television, but you have to put the kibosh on it. I am happy to say, Joel no longer throws food he doesn't want on the floor. Although that was entertaining, I should buy stock in the Swiffer.

The sweetest moments arise when one of the boys is sad. It doesn't matter if Joel is crying or Henry is crying; the other brother offers a consoling hug. Granted, the affection is not always appreciated by the injured/sad brother, but it melts a parent's heart. My goal as they continue to grow is to somehow develop more rituals that include hugging, helping each other, and avoiding WWE injuries.

2016-04-27
]]>Guide to McSweeney’s Most Jewishhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27811&blogid=142
Rather than make you look through all 21 webpages of McSweeney’s lists for the Jewish ones, I went and did that for you.]]>Lindsey_22016-04-21T13:46:28ZPaul Wieder

McSweeney's is a non-profit publisher founded by editor Dave Eggers in 1998 and headquartered in San Francisco. Starting with a literary journal, it has expanded into a full-scale publishing house, offering novels, books of poetry, and other literature. The McSweeney's website, which it calls its "Internet Tendency," posts many humorous articles, including a series of lists. Rather than make you look through all 21 webpages of said lists for the Jewish ones, I went and did that for you. Consider it your afikoman present!

2016-04-21
]]>Roasted Lamb Loin with Mint Chimichurrihttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27803&blogid=142
When I am not inventing new recipes in the kitchen, I find my favorite way to enjoy an evening is to get together with close friends and family over a warm meal. As most hosts will say, a lavish dinner is not an easy task to accomplish.]]>Lindsey_22016-04-20T12:54:29ZMila Furman

When I am not inventing new recipes in the kitchen, I find my favorite way to enjoy an evening is to get together with close friends and family over a warm meal. As most hosts will say, a lavish dinner is not an easy task to accomplish.

I like to think that I am a pretty fabulous host, the kind who is focused yet gracious; when my guests arrive, I seem perfectly put together and in control in a dashing outfit, seemingly relaxed and putting finishing touches on my food with a sprinkle of this, a dab of that and refilling everyone's emptying glasses.

Yea …not so much. Most of the time I am doing last minute dinner parties and running around like a chicken with its head cut off -- in yoga pants -- slicing, dicing, grilling and roasting. But you damn well better believe I am refilling everyone's glasses. That part is not optional.

I have always believed that every host has to have an arsenal of weapons at his or her side to prepare for dinners. And the most important weapon? The recipe.

The perfect recipe makes the host shine out like a star and leaves the guests salivating for more. Forget the chicken, forget the tenderloin; ladies and gentlemen, I would like to present to you the star of our show -- lamb.

Many of my friends and clients are terrified of making lamb. The hefty price tag per pound will intimidate any food-lover and make them question if they are worthy of cooking such a beautiful cut of meat. The bottom line is, yes, you are worthy and no, it is not difficult to make.

This recipe is a one-pan roast that is a true crowd pleaser. I used lamb loin only because it was given to me by a friend of mine who ordered meat from a purveyor and had no idea what to make with it. This recipe will work just as fabulously with boneless leg of lamb though.

The lamb loin is seasoned super simply with salt, pepper, really fruity olive oil and garlic powder. I added some potatoes to the pan and let them roast with the lamb, slowly absorbing the luscious juices. While the lamb cooks up, a quick whizz in the Vitamix and I have the sexiest and most delicious mint chimichurri to douse my taters and lamb in. It's delicate yet uber-flavorful -- perfect for this simple dish.

The aromas that fill the kitchen will truly make anyone's mouth water. And while that lamb is in the oven, you can even enjoy a delicious glass of wine. Go on, do it -- you deserve it! Yoga pants or not, you are still fabulous.

1. In a food processor or blender, combine mint, dill, half of the olive oil, garlic, red pepper flakes, lemon juice and salt and pepper. If the mixture is a bit to "tight" loosen it up with a bit of water.

2. Preheat oven to 450-degrees.

3. Line a baking sheet with a raised edge with foil. I actually prefer to do this in a foil pan. Much easier clean-up.

4. Place the lamb roast flat side up on the baking sheet. Place cut-up potatoes around the lamb roast and drizzle with remaining olive oil, salt and pepper.

5. Roast for 30-35 minutes for medium rare. Toss the potatoes halfway through cooking to ensure even browning. An instant-read thermometer should read 125-130 degrees for medium rare.

6. Remove pan from oven and place tenderloin on the cutting board. Let rest for 10 minutes.

7. Toss the potatoes with half of the chimichurri sauce.

8. Slice the lamb loin, drizzle with remaining sauce and enjoy.

2016-04-20
]]>The four answershttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27796&blogid=142
One of the highlights at the Seder is the four questions. The youngest gets up on a chair and proudly declares four simple and insightful questions. Everyone watches proudly as the next generation is inculcated with the fundamental Jewish concept of being inquisitive (and super cute).]]>Lindsey_22016-04-19T13:40:07ZJoshua Marder

The author and his wife, Laura, the directors of Chicago YJP.

One of the highlights at the Seder is the four questions. The youngest gets up on a chair and proudly declares four simple and insightful questions. Everyone watches proudly as the next generation is inculcated with the fundamental Jewish concept of being inquisitive (and super cute). This endearing introduction to the evening instills the essential lesson of life-to question-because we know it is only through questioning and receiving insightful answers that true learning and appreciation for our rich heritage is accomplished. However, after the four questions, we are left with a minor quandary-what are the four answers?

The first and second questions, which inquire about the peculiarity of eating matzoh and maror (bitter herbs), are answered directly by the Haggadah quoting an ancient Talmudic passage that says: "This matzoh that we are eating is because the dough of our forefathers did not have time to become leavened…This maror that we are eating is because the Egyptians embittered the lives of our forefathers in Egypt…"

The third and fourth questions, which inquire about the tradition of dipping vegetables twice at the Seder and the mitzvah to recline during the meal, are seemingly left unanswered by the Haggadah.

Actually, the answer to give our children (and ourselves) for why we recline is because we are behaving like royalty. (Note: "reclining" does not mean slouching or being lazy. It means relaxed, leaning, and comfortable.) What does royalty have to do with Seder night? Everything.

First, we have to ask, 'What is royalty?" In Hebrew, the word for "master/ruler" is adon, which also means "a support from below." True mastery and rulership is to support those in need, providing a foundation to hold them up. The word for a leader is
nasi, which also means a cloud, because the clouds are above pouring down the blessings of rain and sustenance to the needy below. The Jewish definition of royalty is to provide support from below and blessings from above.

In a DP (displaced persons) camp shortly after liberation, one of the survivors arranged the baking of matzohs for Passover. Supplies were very limited, and the matzoh was rationed at two matzohs per family. A great Chassidic rabbi sent his son for four matzohs. The man responded, "I'm really sorry. I wish I could, but there is a limit of two per family. I'd love to make an exception, but I really can't." The boy persisted saying, "My father never asks for special treatment, but he was adamant about this. He said he needs four." The man found it hard to refuse, especially since this rabbi did so much to help his fellow Jews during the war. So he gave him the four matzohs. Right before the Seder, the rabbi came to see the man. "I know the kind of person you are, and I was concerned. I was sure you would give out all the matzohs and not keep any for yourself. The matzohs were for you."

Despite everything they went through, they had such sensitivities to the needs of others. They exemplify the Jewish definition of royalty. We tell our children emphatically, "You, my precious child, are royalty! As part of the Jewish people, you must bring support, love, blessings, and hope to the world." That is true royalty.

And what about the question about double dipping on vegetables? For that, you'll have to ask around the table! Happy Passover.

Joshua Marder is a rabbi and licensed Marriage and Family Therapist. He and his wife, Laura, are the directors of Chicago YJP, a Division of the Lois and Wilfred Lefkovich Chicago Torah Network.

2016-04-19
]]>Unwatcha-Bullhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27788&blogid=142
Some of it had to do with my recent cable-cutting, but I also don’t remember a Bulls team that I was less excited about. ]]>Lindsey_22016-04-18T13:49:15ZEric Burgher

Full disclosure: I probably watched five total minutes of Bulls basketball this season. It's probably the first time that has happened since I was 16 years old, living in a suburb of Detroit, only able to catch Bulls games through thick radio static way down the AM dial.

Sure, some of it had to do with my recent cable-cutting, but I also don't remember a Bulls team that I was less excited about both pre- and mid-season -- or one that lacked an identity -- as much as this one.

This was not the result the front office wanted when it brought in first-year head coach Fred Hoiberg after firing Tom Thibodeau. Thibodeau led the Bulls to a .647 winning percentage in his five seasons as head coach, but also had a contentious relationship with the front office over roster control and minutes limits, among other things.

In Hoiberg's defense, it was not all his fault. This is not the kind of roster that plays to his strengths as a coach. He's been given leftovers from the Thibodeau era -- one defined by defensive grit -- and has asked them to play a more offense-oriented game plan with a focus on outside shooting. It was never going to work, but I don't think anyone expected a team with this much talent to play their last game of the season on April 13, even in an improved Eastern Conference.

The Bulls are in one of the worst conditions an NBA team can find itself -- knee-deep in mediocrity. They finished the season 42-40, ninth in the Eastern Conference and on the outside looking in at the playoffs for the first time since the 2007-08.

The 2007-08 team looked much more like the kind of Bulls roster you'd expect to miss the playoffs. The largest percent of their payroll went to veteran journeyman Larry Hughes, who only played 28 games. It was Joakim Noah's rookie year, but he was sitting behind "the fro," Ben Wallace, who the Bulls had acquired from Detroit.

Coached by Scott Skiles, who was fired on Christmas Eve and replaced by Jim Boylen, the rest of the primary roster included Ben Gordon (the team's leading scorer, averaging 18.6 PPG), Luol Deng, Drew Gooden, Andres Nocioni, Joe Smith, Tyrus Thomas, Thabo Sefolosha and Chris Duhan. And don't forget the two common threads they shared with this year's group -- Kirk Hinrich (whom the Bulls traded at the deadline this year) and assistant coach Pete Myers.

The only reason the Bulls found any kind of hope and direction after that season was because the stars aligned. They landed the number one overall pick in the 2008 draft - despite a .017 percent chance -- and selected Derrick Rose, who went on the win Rookie of the Year and later an MVP award.

Say what you will about Rose lately, he was a franchise-changing player who just struggled with injuries and never made it back to his peak physically or mentally. Barring another miracle like that one, the Bulls enter the off-season a team searching desperately for answers with very few resources at their disposal.

The Bulls have never been the type of team to tank or clean house, but it's difficult to see the long-term answer on the current roster, and I just don't trust their history luring free agents.

The Bulls are just filled with pieces. Jimmy Butler has played like a star at times, and carried them on his back dozens of times, but I'm afraid the chip on his shoulder is becoming too heavy for anyone around him to bear. Some of the pieces are nice, but without major changes, the Bulls don't stand a chance against teams like Toronto, Atlanta, Miami, Charlotte, any team LeBron is on or pretty much anyone in the Western Conference.

I didn't skip out on my favorite team of all-time because they weren't good (I've survived plenty of those seasons and rooted for my share of Eddie Robinsons) ;I couldn't watch because there was nothing fun about the Bulls this season. The Bulls would do well to take a few pages out of the Cubs' recent playbook, not only in terms of building for the future, but also in the way the Cubs play the game -- joyfully.

There will be very little joy this off-season. The Bulls claim every player is on the table and movable. But unless there is a drastic change in front office or at least in their mentality, we may just need to start praying that those Ping-Pong balls bail us out yet again.

2016-04-18
]]>‘What’s the deal with…?’http://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27780&blogid=142
There's a bestselling book out about curiosity. It's written by a Hollywood producer who has spent his free time asking questions of interesting and accomplished strangers for the last 35 years.]]>Lindsey_22016-04-14T10:24:33ZCindy Sher

There's a bestselling book out about curiosity. It's written by a Hollywood producer who has spent his free time asking questions of interesting and accomplished strangers for the last 35 years.

In the book titled A Curious Mind: The Secret to a Bigger Life, Brian Grazer -- who produced films like Apollo 13 and A Beautiful Mind -- met with people from all walks of life with skill sets very different from his own.

Among them: pop culture artist Jeff Koons; the inventor of the polio vaccine, Jonas Salk; the king of pop, Michael Jackson; etiquette maven and Jacqueline Kennedy's social secretary, Letitia Baldridge; and science fiction writer Isaac Asimov. Grazer's purpose in these "curiosity conversations," as he calls them, was meant to broaden himself and his worldview on things he knew little about.

His project sparked my interest both as a journalist and a Jew. First, I entered the field of journalism in large part because I'm curious about people and what makes them tick. My day job enables me to spend many waking hours asking people probing questions, which inspire me to live my own life in a more meaningful way.

The idea of curiosity conversations resonates for us as Jews too. Questioning, after all, is a deeply Jewish activity. The very Talmud itself is based on rabbis questioning and debating the Torah with each other. And, in the pop culture realm, look no further than the quintessentially Jewish show Seinfeld, where Jerry has spent a career asking "What's the deal with… [insert life's peskiest, silliest musings here]?"

Our tradition allows space for us to ask the tough questions, and to be okay with uncertainty in life, faith, and, yes, even God.

Professor and Holocaust survivor and sage Elie Wiesel, who was an observant Jew as a boy before the war, wrestled with God about suffering during his time in the camps, and even questioned whether God exists. 'Where is God now?' Wiesel asks in his famed Holocaust memoir Night.

One of the things I love about being Jewish is there is space to ask questions; our tradition recognizes that not everything is absolute. There are, of course, Jews out there whose faith rarely wavers and then there are other Jewish people who aren't quite as certain. I meet Jewish agnostics and atheists who consider themselves part of the Jewish community.

This month, we will celebrate Passover, a holiday that invites questions. And along with the perennial Seder questions like "Why is this night different from all other nights?," Jews, this year and every year, have a lot of other big questions on their mind.

Why do bad things happen to good people? Why are we free when others are still oppressed? What is the most unique and precious gift we can each leave the world? How can we help others not as lucky as ourselves? Who the heck will be our next president? How will the world be different for our children than it was for us? How can fill we fill our days with meaning and love?

But maybe we're not supposed to have life all figured out by the time we get to a certain age because how dull would that be?

Maybe the real wisdom lies, not in knowing all the answers, but in knowing that it's okay to ask the questions.

2016-04-14
]]>Three Reasons You Should Move in Your 20shttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27773&blogid=142
I’ve been in New York for five months, and already I’ve felt the effects of moving on my personal growth.]]>Lindsey_22016-04-13T14:24:15ZAdam J. Miller

I used to think I had a grasp on what it meant to live away from home. Since fifth grade I've spent summers in Wisconsin, Indiana, and Pennsylvania, went to school in Massachusetts and lived in Israel for nearly a year. None of these diverse experiences, however, prepared me for a full-time move to New York City.

The Big Apple is a transition in and of itself, especially for someone single and Jewish, but most of the lessons I learned leaving Chicago would've been the same if I were moving to New Mexico instead of New York.

We need only look at the Passover story to understand that we are a moving people. Although the Jewish spiritual homeland has always been Israel, our physical homeland has changed quite a bit throughout time, and the story we're about to read at the Seder alludes to one of the many times we've moved (both in the Torah and more modern times).

Yet we often forget during this retelling of the narrative from slavery to freedom just how reluctant the Jews were to leave Egypt, despite being slaves. Today, the decision to leave where we're from is not any easier or more comfortable, but much like leaving Egypt began the real narrative of the creation Jewish people, moving changes the narrative for your life like nothing else can.

Young adults share a lot of the same life-shaping experiences: getting a job, making ends meet, having friends come and go, dating, etc. Some are intuitive, some you just fall into; I believe living farther away from home should be one of the staples of life after graduation.

I've been in New York for five months, and already I've felt the effects of moving on my personal growth. Here's why you should do it:

You re-define yourself

When I moved back to the Chicago suburbs after graduation, at first I just hung out with everyone from high school. It was great, except we pretty much picked up right where we left off, just swap out fast-food restaurants and our parents' houses for new bars.

My world turned so small that many of the Jewish singles events I attended felt more like high school reunions. Of the dozens of social events, there were usually more people there that I did know than those I didn't.

Living in another state, even if some of your college friends live in your new city, the overwhelming majority of people you meet have no idea who you are. You are whoever you want to be; past experiences or expectations do not shape or define you.

You go outside your comfort zone

When you're a young professional far away from your parents, many of the safety nets are gone. This is nothing like going to overnight camp or college; your parents can't bring something you forgot from home on a random weekend or help you put your furniture together. And even if they have the means to visit you a lot, it's never long enough.

This forces you to truly be on your own and fend for yourself in ways that go well beyond learning to feed yourself and do laundry. Since my move, I had to negotiate a car lease and coordinate the construction of a fake room. (For the unfamiliar who presumably have never lived or do not live in San Francisco or New York, that means turning part of the common living space into a room by hiring a company to build you one.)

This is that point that you realize that you can accomplish something out of your comfort zone.

A new culture also forces you to adapt to your surroundings, even if it's uncomfortable. For example, I learned what happens (or, I should say, doesn't happen) when you try saying "excuse me" when you're stuck behind a large crowd of people on the subway and need to get off.

There is no better time to do it

If moving is something you've wanted to do but weren't sure when you could do it, the answer is now. Especially if you're in your 20s, you likely have the freedom others don't.

It's in our nature to lament and procrastinate, but it's much easier to move when you have fewer responsibilities and can deal with "roughing it" for a few months while you adjust.

Before I made the move to Manhattan, my sister left Chicago with nothing except my old car, her clothes and a few essentials before creating a temporary home in Montana. Her move started a series of adventures and jobs, including dating a guy she met almost instantly after moving.

After I made the decision to leave Chicago too, my dad remarked that he found it interesting that my sister and I both left a comfortable environment to live in a more minimalist way -- my sister leaving the comforts of urban life and me opting for the high cost of living in Manhattan. Yet somehow we both feel freer in our new homes than we did living in Chicago.

Had either of us waited much longer, the move might not have happened at all (dealing with roommates and living in a fake room in my 30s doesn't sound appealing).

Similarly, if the Jews had waited much longer to leave Egypt for the land of Israel, Pharaoh's might have changed his mind before they fled, and then we wouldn't be celebrating anything this season.

If you've ever had thoughts or dreams of living somewhere new, I hope this Passover gives you the clarity you need to create the freedom you've dreamed of. I once heard Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks say at a lecture that what makes the Jewish people distinct from other religions is that we've learned to never look back.

Here's to a year of looking forward, pushing our limits and finding freedom by creating a new home.
Chag sameach.

2016-04-13
]]>Three Things I Wish I’d Known Before Graduating Collegehttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27755&blogid=142
Trading textbooks for timesheets and “Two-Dollar Tuesday” for networking and fundraisers has provided me with a different perspective.]]>Lindsey_22016-04-11T15:58:12ZBen Cutler

I've learned a great deal since graduating from Indiana University about 10 months ago. Sometimes, I find it hard to even believe that I was in college at this time last year. Trading textbooks for timesheets and "Two-Dollar Tuesday" for networking and fundraisers has provided me with a different perspective.

Here are three things I wish I had known before the band cued-up "Pomp and Circumstance."

Work ethic trumps all

As with most college seniors, I spent an incredible amount of time preparing for my future career. I took classes that would set me apart, attended networking events, traveled for informational interviews and even adjusted my wardrobe to look more professional. Although this helped, I've learned that maintaining a strong work ethic is paramount.

Who you know or previous experience may get your foot in the door, but work ethic is the staying force. It's not that the importance of a strong work ethic never occurred to me, but I undervalued the fact that it can propel your entire career.

We get so caught up in trying to control everything from paychecks to the merits of a graduate degree that it is easy to forget the value of showing up and approaching each day and each task with maximum effort. That is the best way to both stand out and make a positive impact.

A work-life balance is challenging, but important

Weekly happy hours and no homework were among the many things I eagerly anticipated during the transition from school to the working world. However, I quickly learned that achieving a work-life balance is not as easy as it sounds.

There are still opportunities to spend time with friends, visit family or catch the big game, but I oftentimes find myself fixated on work. From catching up on email to making myself available to clients or just discussing new and exciting experiences, work simply takes precedence. Perhaps my age and desire to earn the respect of my colleagues could explain my ambition, or maybe I just haven't learned how to keep these two things separated.

I love work, but also realize the importance of maintaining a balance. The ability to step back and take a deep breath is a key to staying sharp, keeping focus and ultimately continuing to learn and grow.

Keeping in touch is difficult

As I packed my car and headed home from school for the last time, I wondered how often I would talk with my best friends who weren't moving to Chicago. Perhaps we would connect daily or at least a few times per week? We would definitely keep our text and chat group right? It started off frequently, but as we all settled into new jobs or law school seminars, hours fell into days and days into weeks.

We all make time every so often, but it's just not as easy as we thought. Free time is hard to come by and daily conversations are the unfortunate casualty. This doesn't take anything away from the relationships forged and the bonds built, but it's simply difficult for communication to remain consistent.

While I wish I had known all this before graduating, the most impactful lessons are oftentimes learned through real-life experience, and I wouldn't trade the experience of the last 10 months for anything.

2016-04-11
]]>30 Things I Will Do Before 30http://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27743&blogid=142
I’m 28 years old, going on 29. Right after that (a year, not immediately), I turn the big 29 plus 1. Quite the milestone -- though if we were in any other country, it would be quite the kilometerstone.]]>Lindsey_22016-04-06T13:21:42ZAdam Daniel Miller

I'm 28 years old, going on 29. Right after that (a year, not immediately), I turn the big 29 plus 1. Quite the milestone -- though if we were in any other country, it would be quite the kilometerstone.

So time is of the essence! That essence being "Eau de Adam Needs to Do More Stuff Before 30." Since I have a little over a year until that decade-shifting age, I have decided to compile a list of 30 things I will (key word being "will") do before I complete another decade on this planet we call Mars' Neighbor. I'm a dork.

So here are 30 things I will do before I turn 30!

1. Turn 31. Gonna be tough to do this one, but I think with determination and perseverance I got it.

2. Fire a gun. I work with this jerk who happens to be a gun and I think it's about time I let him go.

3. Stop using the phrase, "All things considered." Most of the time, only some things are considered.

4. Lose a few pounds. A trip to England might help with that.

5. Run a half marathon. So a mara. Or a thon.

6. Go skydiving. Preferably in the shallow end.

7. Learn how to play an instrument. Maybe the kazoo.

8. Go skinny-dipping. Hmmmm, first I'm going to have to get skinny. So in the meantime, I'll go husky dipping.

9. Splurge on a once-in-a-lifetime meal at one of the world's best restaurants. Obviously Rainforest Café.

10. Sing karaoke. Specifically the song, "Tequila," because I know all the lyrics.

11. Travel somewhere new and different all by myself. I'm thinking of trying the grocery store.

13. Learn to speak a new language. This one will be tough since most languages are invented already and I'll have to discover a new one.

14. Travel somewhere truly exotic. Somewhere that feels like the end of the earth. So, I don't know, maybe Detroit?

15. Splurge on something I can't really afford, but that will last for years. I've really wanted an antique 6-foot hour glass that takes four and half years for each turn.

16. Try taking a class that is completely out of my element. Therefore nothing carbon-based.

17. Cross at least one item off my bucket list. Like actually buying a bucket.

18. Visit more states. I hear "confusion" can be a bit disorientating but worth the trip.

19. Start a 401k. Although I haven't even participated in a 5k.

20. Learn how to fly. A plane, a kite, whatever is easiest. I have no idea.

21. Visit the Great Wall of China. If that doesn't work out, visit The Pretty Good Wall of Evanston.

22. Travel to a remote desert island. Then travel to a TV desert island.

23. Watch a meteor shower. I don't care if astronomers view me as a peeping Tom.

24. Go to a cemetery and start bawling at the grave of someone I don't know. Then I'll belt out, "WHY!!!!???? WHY AM I CRYING AT THE GRAVE OF SOMEONE I DON'T KNOW!????"

25. Try something that terrifies me. Like picking up a phone call from a number I don't recognize.

26. Attend a major sports event. Whether it's the Super Bowl, the Stanley Cup Finals or a Cubs win. (This joke was funnier a few years ago.)

27. Make my bed. Into what you ask? Well I could make a broach. A hat. A pterodactyl!

28. Stop trying to be ahead of the game. I'm tired of being chased by the game.

29. Learn to count to 30.

2016-04-06
]]>Investing in Your Jewish Pasthttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27739&blogid=142
I have been surprised to find out how many of my camp friends have not
visited camp since their final days as campers or on staff, or how many day-schoolers
are reluctant to credit their success to their day school education. ]]>Lindsey_22016-04-05T16:50:14ZJeremy Fine

One of my odd jobs in rabbinical school was working to build an alumni database for a national day school association. I was tasked with creating two events, one in Chicago and one in New York, to bring together alumni from its different branches and build brand awareness. Immediately, I went to a few friends of mine who had a band and asked if, as alumni, they'd headline a concert. The leader of the band looked at me and said, "I am not an alumnus. You cannot graduate from camp, youth groups, and clubs."

I was not there to argue semantics. Maybe he was right, but he was not correcting the wording so much as informing me that he had no attachment to the Jewish organizations that added value to his upbringing. This person has 15 friends who are inseparable, some of the closest-knit Jewish friends I had ever met, and their bond directly stemmed from attending summer camp and day school. How could he not credit the contributions of these organizations that clearly influenced his Jewish upbringing?

In general, I have been surprised to find out how many of my camp friends have not visited camp since their final days as campers or on staff, or how many day-schoolers are reluctant to credit their success to their day school education. The solution is twofold: Organizations need to connect to the individual's lifelong journey and individuals need to recognize the outlets organizations offer that do not involve spending a summer at camp or going on a free 10-day Israel trip.

I might be an exception to the rule. The nature of my work as rabbi automatically keeps me connected to my summer camps, youth groups, day schools and other pivotal Jewish organizations from my youth. As a leader of a non-profit, I recognize that once we stop attending these camps, youth groups, and schools, our affiliation begins to dwindle because we no longer need them in our lives.

So for these Jewish organizations, whose resources are stretched and sparse, it is difficult to invest in these "alumni," these non-dues-paying individuals whose careers and places of residence are in flux. Synagogues, for example, work daily to procure young professionals, but we acknowledge that most people return to synagogue when they have children.

I recently heard the paradigm "our personal organizations (i.e. camp, Hillel, etc.) are our stocks." People are always interacting with their stocks, tinkering with the finances and engaging with them. Federations -- and Chicago is lucky to have one like JUF, which supports such a vibrant Jewish community by promoting a variety of religious and cultural Jewish experiences -- are our mutual fund. They remain steady, a safety net in case our smaller organizations falter. They ensure we are able to have robust Jewish options, a voice in the larger world and ultimately, they provide care for the Jewish organizations and experiences to which we hold a deep emotional attachment.

For individuals with an emotional investment in a Jewish program or organization, today's landscape can be overwhelming. All Jewish organizations are starving for resources, so they're asking for an investment or your reinvestment. They are understaffed and competing with one another. It is often healthy competition, but they must meet budget, inspire participation and constantly rebuild numbers to maintain the services that they provide. To continue to provide the same or better opportunities that years and even generations of Jews were able to benefit from, organizations rely on their "alumni" to help support the future. Way back when, they needed you to participate or sign up, but the truth is that they need you just as much now, when you are not directly benefitting from your investment.

While Jewish youth organizations might cut off at a certain age, our connection to them does not have to. A counselor of mine once said to me that Jewish summer camp was not intended to be Jewish education for the campers, but rather for the staff members. With that in mind, how can we reimagine the continual benefits we gain by interacting with these organizations? And how can we optimize that long-ago investment?

An organization's board members are often chosen because of the "three Ws:" work, wisdom and wealth. I would say this holds true for what Jewish organizations need from their alumni. Of course they need people to write checks to ensure the lights stay on, staff is paid and families can feasibly afford programs. But all organizations need a healthy volunteer base and fresh perspective to create new ideas and meet unmet needs. So if you cannot open your pocketbook to provide the wealth, try to become the work or wisdom that your Jewish organization needs.

The highlight of my rabbinic career thus far -- outside of meeting Mel Brooks -- was at a Jewish camp where I met a young boy named Charlie who I had helped convince to go to camp that summer. When I first saw Charlie at camp, he spewed out the activities he was doing, Judaism he was experiencing, and how it was the best decision of his life. I walked away almost ready to retire -- what could possibly top seeing another child so happily Jewish? If you ever loved your camp, school or Hillel as much as Charlie, it's your obligation to never end that relationship, just as much as it's the organizations obligation to offer pathways that allow us to never stop engaging.

I take deep pride in my position as a board member of a Hillel. I have seen remarkable change happen during this time. I hope others can find ways of engaging with the programs and organizations that impacted them, or work to create new avenues to express their Judaism that perhaps they wished existed when they were younger. If you found friends, meaning, value, or even a sense of belonging in your Jewish "alma maters" it is important to invest in your past in order for these organizations to have a future.

2016-04-05
]]>Minyan-niversaryhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27734&blogid=142
My spiritual home
doesn’t actually have a home. It meets in my living room, or an apartment
building party room, or an art gallery. ]]>Lindsey_22016-04-04T15:29:25ZCelebrating five years of Windy City MinyanLia Goldfarb

My spiritual home doesn't actually have a home. It meets in my living room, or an apartment building party room, or an art gallery. On the third Friday of the month, the room is filled with the sounds of harmonized singing, the smells of homemade goodies, and the images of people making new friends. At the end of the night, I come home feeling energized. It's a minyan night.

I am so proud to be celebrating the fifth anniversary of Windy City Minyan, an independent minyan for young adults in the Lakeview area.

After I graduated college, some friends and I attended an intergenerational independent minyan in the Lakeview area for a few years. We loved this monthly tradition, but the minyan suddenly stopped meeting. I emailed the minyan's organizer to say I was sorry the minyan hadn't been meeting. He responded by asking me to take it over.

It wasn't the answer I had expected, but I gathered some friends and we decided instead of reviving the old minyan, we'd start something new. At that time, very little existed for young adults on Shabbat (now, of course, there are many options!), so we decided to focus our minyan on that population. After debating between names like Chi-town Minyan, Second City Minyan, and Deep Dish Minyan, we settled on Windy City Minyan.

Windy City Minyan held its first Shabbat service five years ago, on April 22, 2011, at my apartment. We spread the word to our friends and were so excited to see friends of friends and people we did not yet know.

We are so proud of what this minyan has become. Each month, we get between 30 and 80 participants, many of whom are new to Chicago and use this as an opportunity to meet new people. We see people who grew up in all streams of Judaism, as well as some new to the religion.

As an independent minyan, we don't follow a specific movement of Judaism, but we define ourselves as egalitarian and we use the Conservative movement's prayer book. But being independent gives us flexibility: For example, we made a decision that we will face east (towards Jerusalem) in spaces that make sense to do so; but if east is the entrance to the apartment, we face the opposite way so as not to make latecomers uncomfortable, citing the verse of Talmud that warns against embarrassing people. We aim to be as welcoming as possible, including a greeter and a "welcome" sign at the door.

Our service leaders are our community members, and we encourage as much participation as possible by inviting people to lead Kabbalat Shabbat, Ma'ariv, and Kiddush, and also give a D'var Torah and share what Shabbat means to them (what I informally refer to as our "Shabbat Nugget"). Some are seasoned leaders and others use this welcoming group as an opportunity to learn to lead a service for the first time. All are appreciated.

We meet in apartment buildings and party rooms, and once we even met in an art gallery. Like traveling salesmen, we have a suitcase full of supplies like prayer books, painters tape for signs, door stops, garbage bags, and paper goods so that hosts merely need to let us in and we'll take care of the rest.

Following the service, we always have an
oneg
(reception) with appetizers and snacks -- many of us on the committee use this as an opportunity to refine our baking skills -- and twice a year we hold a potluck dinner.

Prayer doesn't always speak to me, but at Windy City Minyan, I find myself getting lost in the melodies, being completely present, thinking about the power of our voices coming together as this nomadic community. This minyan has taught me more than I ever thought I'd know about marketing, social media, room rental contracts, acoustics, Shabbat worship melodies, other Jewish organizations, apartment layouts, and logistics. I have made so many friendships and have had the opportunity to meet a lot of interesting people.

Thank you to everyone who has participated in this minyan over the last five years. I'm excited to watch it continue to grow.

Please join me in wishing Windy City Minyan a happy "minyan-niversary," and come celebrate with us at 7 p.m. on Friday, April 15 near Belmont and Lake Shore Drive for Friday night services -- and for the first time ever, a Havdalah service at 7 p.m. Saturday, April 16 near Roscoe and Sheffield. Visit us at
windycityminyan.com
or find us on Facebook for the exact address and more information.

Shabbat Shalom … the next Windy City Minyan is never more than a month away!

2016-04-04
]]>Refugees are Human Beingshttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27691&blogid=142
Meet Teklit, an Eritrean refugee trying to make a life in Israel.]]>Lindsey_22016-03-31T11:53:38ZMeet Teklit, an Eritrean refugee trying to make a life in IsraelJenna Cohen

The global attitude toward accepting and integrating refugees has become increasingly more challenging of late. In Europe and North America, political leaders struggle to find physical and emotional space for the millions of refugees fleeing from Syria. Although Israel is not a destination for Syrian refugees, it is the destination for countless African refugees who seek to escape corrupt and militarized governments.

Where I live in Tel Aviv has one of the nation's largest and most concentrated populations of African asylum seekers, the majority of whom come from Eritrea and Sudan. This piece is about one of the remarkable men in my community who fled his homeland to take refuge in Israel.

Meet Teklit, a refugee from the previously war-torn and now suspiciously silent country of Eritrea. When Teklit was 17 years old, he was arrested by the Eritrean national police for asking too many questions about the government and its practices. As a rising track star preparing to join the national team, Teklit was too far into the local spotlight for the government to allow his questioning to continue.

For months, Teklit lived in a one-room cell with other political prisoners. His shared cell was dark and damp with no proper beds or toilets. At the center of the room was a hole where he and his fellow prisoners relieved themselves. The air was thick with the scent of human waste and disease spread quickly among the inmates. If one person grew ill, within hours, the entire cell was sick. To Teklit and his peers, this place was "hell on earth," but luckily for Teklit, his former athletic career caught the eye of the national military.

Ever weakened by his time in prison, Teklit remained a strong and disciplined young man. So the military offered him a choice: remain in prison, or join the army he had been arrested for questioning. Knowing this might be his only way out, Teklit accepted their offer and joined the military.

For six months, Teklit trained with the Eritrean army, living in both the constant fear of being returned to prison and the fear that remaining in the military would require him to do harm to other human beings.

"I did not want to kill anyone," he said, "so I ran."

Moving as fast as their legs could carry them, Teklit and a friend fled the army and made their way towards the Eritrean-Sudanese border. For two days, they waited to cross the heavily guarded border to what the young men hoped would be their salvation. When the time finally came for them to enter Sudan, they crossed the border running to avoid the gunshots of the Sudanese border patrol.

The moment he set foot in Sudan, Teklit became a refugee -- a person without a nation or a home. Arriving at one of Sudan's many refugee camps confirmed this status. The camp was sparse, with few resources to accommodate the countless individuals seeking shelter there. Just as in the Eritrean prison he left behind, disease ran rampant, and before long, Teklit contracted Malaria. He survived thanks to the kindness of his friend, who used his savings to pay for Teklit's medical care.

After his recovery, Teklit made his way to Cairo hoping to find a home for himself in Egypt. "I heard that they were kind to Christians there," he recounted, but Egypt had changed in the last few decades. Now, "they asked your religion before they asked your name," and "Christian" was no longer an acceptable answer.

So for much of his time in Egypt, when asked, Teklit said that his name was Mohammed or Ishmael to avoid unwanted attention. Knowing that he could not live like this forever, Teklit made the decision to go to Israel, which he'd heard described as a haven in the Middle East.

Escaping Egypt through the perilous Sinai Peninsula, Teklit arrived in Israel feeling safer than he had in ages. Even after a month of homelessness and sleeping out in the rain, he described Israel as "heaven." But now, after eight years of living as an asylum seeker possessing no clear legal status, Teklit views Israel with a mixture of gratitude and frustration.

While he has the freedom to speak his mind and practice his religion without fear of arrest within Israel's borders, as a stateless person it is difficult for him to find a regular job or attend university; nor can he obtain a visa to immigrate to another country. He faces a struggle similarly felt by the thousands of families and individuals fleeing from Syria -- as well as the less publicized flights from Sudan and other war-torn African countries . For now, he cannot return home, and until he gains legal refugee status -- something that is nearly impossible in Israel -- he feels, at least under law, that he is not a human being.

Unfortunately, as we've seen in the news over the last few weeks, many countries including the United States find excuses to avoid becoming responsible for refugees of war. Israel is no different. A few weeks ago, Teklit's appeal for refugee status was closed on the grounds that he failed to show up for both of his required interviews, when in reality, he showed up early for both interviews only to be turned away because his interviewer was "sick" or "out for the day."

As a young man in his late 20s, Teklit should be attending school or starting his career. Instead he is stuck. He has no rights, no legal identity, and nowhere to go.

Part of my program in South Tel Aviv focuses on helping African refugees live a better life in Israel, but we cannot change anyone's legal standing. All I can do is write; to share Teklit's story with the world in the hopes that someone with more power than I can help change refugee lives for the better -- in Israel and around the world -- so that no one will ever again say, "I am not a human being."

2016-03-31
]]>My Heart (Still) Belongs to Birthrighthttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27680&blogid=142
I took my Shorashim trip to Israel in the summer of 2007 and the memories of that adventure still flicker brightly in the back of my mind.]]>Lindsey_22016-03-30T12:09:40ZAshley Kolpak

"Tell me about your Jewish background."

There were days I asked that question what felt like 100 times, but each time the words left my mouth, I always anticipated what I would hear in return from the person on the other end of the line.

This past February, I worked as part of the Birthright registration crew for
Shorashim, an amazing organization headquartered here in Chicago. I took my Shorashim trip to Israel in the summer of 2007 and the memories of that adventure still flicker brightly in the back of my mind.

The trip to Israel was my first taste of life abroad, an introduction to Israeli culture, to a culture other than my own. It was all of the things it promised to be prior to takeoff and much more. It was equal parts fun, mesmerizing, challenging and ultimately, uplifting. Those 10 days traversing across the land of milk and honey certainly left an indelible mark.

Registration entailed answering phones, reaching out, conducting a whirlwind of "brief five-minute phone interviews," and it was invigorating. An opportunity to simply talk to people about why they want to go to Israel, where they come from and what they're up to? Please. Sign me up. I'm chatty. It's a fact of my life.

Most people were perfectly pleasant. Some people really stood out. When I heard heartfelt stories of how they came into their Judaism, how their families immigrated to the U.S. or Canada, hearing the spirit and joy with which they regarded their Jewish upbringing thus far and how exciting the prospect of going to Israel for them, it was hard not be awed, even a little overcome by their passion and heart.

Talking with so many young people from all over the country, I was reminded that it takes all kinds. You know? That unique, grounding feeling that everyone is so different, yet we're all the same. There is a powerful thread that ties us all together, an unspoken bond of growing up Jewish, of being Jewish, no matter if we are observant or grew up not knowing very much about the religion.

A spark exists -- dormant and waiting to ignite in some; brilliantly shining in others -- that unites us all; a preternatural understanding that defies articulation; knowing someone, without really knowing someone at all. I could go on. It's real, and it's special. It's not about being "religious" or "spiritual." It's the thought that in this world, it's somewhat of a feat just to "be" Jewish at all, in all of its lovely iterations.

To the kids (ahem, young adults) heading off to Israel this summer, this season and hopefully many seasons to come, I wish you all the luck in the world in discovering something small, or something huge, about what being Jewish means to you. The opportunity to visit the country can have a lot of implications, political or otherwise. But at this age, on the cusp of real live adulthood, focus on what's important to you and use that as the lens to view this experience. It doesn't need to be a serious, soul-searching journey. It could be the most fun you've ever had. It could be a religious awakening; it could be the exact opposite. The point is, make it yours.

Talking with would-be participants and sharing my stories of a trip eight years in the past felt easy and comfortable, as if I'd just returned from Ben Gurion Airport. To be able to breathe new life into a treasured moment in time is an uncanny happening, one that I'm really grateful for. It's also a testament to how things never unfold quite how you think they should, but it's the unexpected opportunities that can bring about the most contentment.

Oh! And if you're 18-26 and haven't been on Birthright yet, go, go, go! (P.S. Shorashim really is awesome. Believe me, I'll tell you all about it).

2016-03-30
]]>When Parenting Begins Does Socializing Have to End?http://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27671&blogid=142
“How about that,” remarked my friend Sharon to Rose and I as we were heading out the door, balancing a toddler, diaper bag and empty serving bowl, “I think we managed to have some sort of an adult conversation today.”]]>Lindsey_22016-03-28T16:28:24ZAndy Kirschner

"How about that," remarked my friend Sharon to Rose and I as we were heading out the door, balancing a toddler, diaper bag and empty serving bowl, "I think we managed to have some sort of an adult conversation today."

She was right -- it was pretty novel to be leaving a meal with five adults and five kids under the age of five and realize we talked about anything of substance. And by sort of adult conversation, she meant that we carved out five minutes of non-kid related, uninterrupted conversation to talk about our recent trip to Israel. Those readers with kids probably understand the reason to celebrate this. But for those without little ones, let me describe how an afternoon like this typically works, so you can appreciate the milestone we achieved.

Let's use the example of going to a friend's house for a few hours over lunch on Saturday afternoon as an example. Here is how the time spent might break down in order of most to least amount of time spent on something. Recognizing that different parents always handle these things differently, I also indicated what more experienced parents do in order to make each of these pieces of the afternoon go more smoothly and free up time to actually eat and socialize as adults.

37 minutes dealing with interruptions from kids:

This comes in a variety of ways and ranges from asking for more of what is already on the table like grape juice, demanding to have something that's not on the table like chicken nuggets, or just making noises because food was dropped. Littler ones also like to bang on the table and toddlers love to grab their parents' arms with their hands that are covered in something sticky. For this reason, experienced parents don't wear long sleeves.

34 minutes trying to make sure that your child is eating.

This ranges from getting bibs to rolling up sleeves to cleaning up spills to cutting up food, encouraging more bites or reminding the kid to chew and swallow between bites. Experienced parents have actually given most of this up altogether, figuring if the kid is hungry the kid will eat.

24 minutes talking about poop, potty and diapers and all things about kids' biological functions.

This is actually how every conversation goes as a parent. All parents act this way no matter how experienced.

22 minutes getting everyone settled, arranged and set up at the table.

There are boosters and high chairs to juggle, seating arrangements to play with and questions about who can drink out of what type of cup. Experienced parents offer to help set the table.

19 minutes checking if that is my kid crying, yelling, making noise or just figuring out where is my kid?

This involves a lot of getting up -- usually mid-sentence -- to respond to cries and crashes from the other room. Experienced parents also know to fear unusual calm and silence. "Where's Johnny? It's very quiet in there. Oh here he is in the kitchen, helping himself to fistfuls of cake. How does everyone feel about fruit for dessert?"

17 minutes saying goodbye and getting ready to leave

This is because you have to look all over for shoes, toys, and collect all of your other things and change a last minute diaper after everyone is ready to go. Experienced parents pack light.

12 minutes eating

It's hard to believe that over the course of the entire meal that is all that is left for actual food consumption by the parents. Experienced parents eat a snack before they come and, as stated above, don't worry as much about their own kid eating .

9 minutes dealing with a big incident or meltdown (that feels like 90, by the way).

This can be a real tough part for everyone and experienced parents know better than to stare. Their kid actually does look like that when he acts up and staring like they have never seen a tantrum of that size only makes everyone feel worse about it.

All of that leaves about five minutes for having a grown up conversation about nothing related to children. If you are keeping tabs, that's about 3% of the total time spent. The reality of having young kids pretty much changes the paradigm of what it means to have social time. Looking at the breakdown above, it might seem that as parenting begins, socializing with other adults ends.

However, the truth about all of this is that I absolutely love it. I really wouldn't have it any other way. Children have a way of naturally breaking up every routine you could have possibly ever had. In my experience, the challenge of parenting is not to get on top of any type of routine but simply to embrace the idea that the structure you have set up for your family's day is subject to change at any second. Going through that day in and day out helps me to expect all of the unexpected challenges that come my way during the rest of my week when I am not actually parenting. It's a perspective that I hope stays with me long after my kids are grown and having to experience this as parents for themselves.

2016-03-28
]]>My Son Came Homehttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27659&blogid=142
Three teen boys running around with saggy pants and backpacks. One of them is wearing a black hoodie -- hood up, a bandana covering the lower half of his face.]]>Lindsey_22016-03-23T16:45:05ZAnnice Moses

Three teen boys running around with saggy pants and backpacks. One of them is wearing a black hoodie -- hood up, a bandana covering the lower half of his face. That kid has a gun in his hand. He's shooting it. The police are called. You know what happens next…

What happens next is I get a call from my son. He tells me his friend was being an idiot and shooting squirrels. Someone called the cops. Can I come pick him up? He gives me the address. It's not the address of the police station.

I am the first parent to arrive on the scene. There are two police Suburbans parked, their engines running. My son and his two friends are standing nervously. Two guns and a giant canister of ammo sit on the hood of one of the police vehicles. The officers are extremely polite. They tell me that the boy with the hoodie had been shooting his Airsoft gun and both my son and the third boy had not. They said the boys had all been cooperative. My son was free to go. Free. To. Go.

I found out later -- many days later -- that my son also had an Airsoft gun. A gun that was shifting anxiously in my son's backpack, while he was being respectfully questioned by officers. A backpack that was never searched -- a gun that was never discovered.

My son, at age 13, had just gotten a big dose of white privilege. A privilege that may have saved his life.

My son came home that day. He left his bed unmade and his towel on the floor the next day and the day after that, and the day after that. My son continues to have breakfast every Sunday with his grandparents. He still opens up a mouth about having to clean his dishes before going out with friends. He still takes too long doing his hair and regularly makes his brothers late to school. He got strep throat. He turned 14. My son came home.

Tamir Rice was black. He was 12 years old. He was playing with a BB gun in a park. He will never play in that park again. He will never celebrate another birthday. He was shot by an officer before he had a chance to explain his gun was a toy; before he had a chance to hide it in his backpack; before he had a chance to call his mom and say he needed her to pick him up; before he felt his nerves kick in worrying about what his mom was going to say. He'll never come home again.

I can't stop thinking about it. But I can if I want to. I'm not raising a black son. I don't need to teach my son -- my sons -- to keep their hands on the steering wheel when they get pulled over. I don't have to help my sons' white friends understand that the usual mischief boys get into can't be for mine because I fear his life may be taken in a "misunderstanding" because he's black. When the dispatcher comes over the radio saying, "Suspect is a black male…" somehow those words -- BLACK MALE -- strike such a fear, that a routine nuisance call can escalate to a child dying in a park next to his toy gun. The gratitude that my son came home is forever paired with shame. There can be no solace in injustice, even if my son came home.

2016-03-25
]]>Not the Purim I Rememberhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27650&blogid=142
It doesn't take much to realize why I'm happy -- I've got a Purim grogger in one hand and a lasso in the other. I'm marching my way to shul in the same suede and tasseled cowgirl costume I've rodeoed into for the fourth consecutive year.]]>Lindsey_22016-03-21T16:11:20ZEliana Block

It doesn't take much to realize why I'm happy -- I've got a Purim grogger in one hand and a lasso in the other. I'm marching my way to shul in the same suede and tasseled cowgirl costume I've rodeoed into for the fourth consecutive year. I've got on a sheriff's badge and a when I walk into the front lobby, a man tips his striped "Cat in The Hat" hat at me and says, "Howdy." I tip my hat too, but don't say howdy back. I'm 9 years old after all, and still too shy to acknowledge outright kindness.

Sitting on mom's lap (because 9 year-olds are NOT too old for laps), my finger is expectantly wedged in the third chapter, the first time Haman's name is mentioned. That's the whole point of the holiday, right? To say this man's name, rattle a few boxes of rice and put on clown-noses, poodle skirts and Thing 2 wigs.

Mom tells me to get off her lap. She's been fasting all day, and must be feeling weak. Good thing I snuck some Shaloch Manot Oreos into my fringed-vest pocket. I'll give her one after the Megillah reading. On second thought, best keep the fact that I've been sneaking from our not-yet-delivered Shaloch Manot between me and my vest pocket. I'm a smart cowgirl, but Mom's a mom, so obviously, she already knows. Nine-year-old cowgirls aren't the best at hiding cookie crumbs. They're good at one thing though, making noise at the sound of Haman's name.

****

I've got Oreos in the pocket of my kilt and I'm waiting for this darn reading to finally be over. Yesterday, Laura's mom took us shopping at thrift stores to find a costume. We sifted through racks and racks labeled "WOMEN'S TOPS FINAL SALE," some with tags still on, others marked "lightly used." It's always hysterical finding bras and underwear at Good Will, though admittedly sobering to see someone put those items in her cart.

We paved our way through the hanger maze, and I found a used kilt I would only grasp between tweezer-like fingers. I remember Laura's mom saying, "Don't worry, we can put it in the dryer on high. That'll kill whatever's living on it." Comforting.

And yet I'm wearing the Scottish kilt, which is sucking in my growling belly. I hear Haman's name and shout like I am nine, not 17. Mom still lets me sit on her lap sometimes. It's fun being the youngest kid: she doesn't want me to grow up either and I'm okay with that. If she knew where the skirt -- now hanging on my hips -- hung only yesterday, she'd probably slide me off. In either case, the Megillah reading is just about over, and me and my kilt have got an NCSY costume competition to win.

****

The seven of us became friends early on in seminary. We are an eclectic group of two Chicagoans, two Brits, two newly Aliyah-ed and one Canadian, and we are running around Ben Yehuda and King George streets hunting for fluffy tutus, tinkering belly skirts, hair-dye and rainbow suspenders. We are each decked-out in different colors of the rainbow. I shotgun blue, because blue is objectively the best color.

We spend the day delivering Shaloch Manot to our favorite teachers in the Alon Shvut community. I see a throng of people clustered in a Purim parade. There's a kid dressed as a jumbo milk carton, a gang of teens holding up a homemade
Egged
bus costume, an elderly man as the regal Pharaoh and an Ethiopian as a spritely blue fairy. I snap pictures, not of them, but with them, jumping into the parade and becoming one of the mass. My rainbow crew and I leave after an hour and half. We've got to get to our Purim Seudah where there will be platters of barbecued chicken and steak, fresh french fries, guacamole, and of course rounds and rounds of alcohol. We will go out on the sand-dusted balcony to snap a few pictures before heading to the busses. Boys will be drunk and flirtatious there. One will compliment my eyes, saying they're the lightest shade of blue he's ever seen. Then he will drunkenly crash his head into the pole he's holding and vomit in the back of the bus.

****

It's a couple days until Purim and I have to hold back the heartbreak. After months of searching the web for the perfect peasant top, feathered hat, striped skirt and leather corset -- no one will get to see the pirate costume I've impatiently been waiting to wear. I've got class Wednesday night from 7-10 p.m., which means I'll miss the Megillah reading. I can't afford to miss the class because I've reached an all-time low of 55 percent and the teacher isn't the extra-credit-giving type. I'll be too tired after three hours of coding anyways, and likely won't see anyone in costume either. There's a women's Megillah reading Thursday morning that I'll have to skip and working in Annapolis twice a week means waking up at 6 a.m. -- too early to manage with a hangover. It feels as if Purim decided to skip a year.

Some Jews at work have mentioned that they may not come in at all Thursday. They say they want to "have some fun." Am I supposed to tell my supervisor, that different Jews hold a different level of observance? I feel conflicted by real-world responsibility to clock in the hours and a burning nostalgia to cloak up in a pirate cape. Every day as Purim approaches, my heart sinks as my dress-upportunity sails off in the distance. My boyfriend has already bought a plan B costume, but I'm too bitter to appreciate his excitement to be Daredevil for a day.

In coming to terms with my Purim-less week, I've decided to pack a pirate's survival kit to work: a bottle of rum (for a mini mid-day
l'chaim), a grogger for when I read the Megillah to myself, and of course, a small stash of Oreos, because hey, some traditions don't die.

2016-03-21
]]>Clear Eyes, Full Hearts, Meet Jewshttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27606&blogid=142
Anyone who knows me well would never imagine me quoting something football-related. I’ve never seen one episode of Friday Night Lights (much to my sister’s chagrin), but I love the mantra: “Clear Eyes, Full Hearts, Can't Lose.”]]>Lindsey_22016-03-17T15:01:48ZHow I found more social success through YLD's LEADS in my 30sBlair Chavis

Anyone who knows me well would never imagine me quoting something football-related. I've never seen one episode of
Friday Night Lights
(much to my sister's chagrin), but I love the mantra: "Clear Eyes, Full Hearts, Can't Lose." Many have adopted this phrase as a source of inspiration for coping with various hardships or they even channel it to win the big game. I think, with clear eyes and a full/open heart, anything is possible -- be it professional, athletic, or merely adopting a socially open attitude.

In our 20s, we're desperately trying to figure out who we are; in our 30s, we begin to come to terms with who we're growing up to be. Perhaps a cliche for good reason -- I think women really begin to find themselves in their 30s and I've just started that journey. I'm less afraid to speak my mind, and I find myself progressively fearless in pursuing outlets that truly bring me happiness.

My 20s were a more tentative time, both professionally and socially. As someone who grew up in Chicago's northern suburbs, it was easy to take my ready-made friend network for granted when I returned to Chicago after college. Like many home-grown Jews, I found my way back after a few years away. I eased into city life, surrounded by a combination of suburban, home friends and friends who had migrated from my Big Ten school. I spent several years in my 20s blending friend groups with other friends who went to nearby Big Tens, until our roots were nearly seamless. Additionally, I layered in friends from various jobs and social groups.

My last roommate, a non-Chicago native, found this city to be quite difficult to break into for the very reasons that made my return easy. I had a foundation dating back to my childhood. The Jewish community here is very tight-knit, and many of us grew up in the area -- newcomers don't know where to begin.

As such, it is fair to say that I was somewhat nonchalant about becoming active in the Jewish scene in my early 20s because I felt like I had already grown up in it to some degree. I cherry-picked events, while my roommate faithfully kept up with nearly every opportunity.

However, as friends pair off and get married, single ladies must inevitably keep refreshing their single friend network, or else they risk getting too comfortable on the couch in PJs, binging on Netflix.

A couple times in my 20s, I tried JUF's LEADS program with the expectation of, perhaps, collecting a few new friends and a new love interest. During those 20s trials, I knew one or two people in my group and we stuck to each other like glue. We lost out on the whole benefit of LEADS -- meeting new people. I made few friends through the program.

For those who aren't familiar, LEADS is a social series for young professionals comprised of groups of 10 to 15 people that meet in multiple neighborhoods around the city. Group members are matched based on age and location, and come together weekly for eight sessions to discuss and explore contemporary Jewish issues. After most sessions, all of the LEADS groups converge for a bar happy hour. The program is ideal for young professionals looking for new friends, newbies to the city and even couples who are looking to branch out.

I think those who might find the most immediate success from LEADS are those who are willing to push themselves out of their comfort zones. I've spoken with several friends who were new to Chicago, tried LEADS early on, and made some great, new friends from the program. Newcomers have to attend with an open mind to truly benefit from the program's network.

I didn't reap the program's benefits until I tried LEADS again this past fall. I've spent the past year re-grouping socially after a couple very close friends moved cities. I signed up for LEADS without a safety net -- I didn't sign up to be in a group with any existing friends. I decided to go in alone and see what happens. I also approached this experience without any agenda and truly wanted to meet some interesting people.

Luck met opportunity and this LEADS session was my best. I certainly can thank the fact that I had a wonderful group. But, I also think my success had a lot to do with my frame of mind and my open, "full heart." I shed my high school-esque need to stick to a built-in safety net and opened myself up to a handful of really fabulous people, many of whom I now spend time with on a regular basis.

I was actually on the young end of the group's spectrum, which consisted of Jewish professionals in their mid-to-late-30s. The group had a level of maturity, cooperation and warmth I had never experienced. All of us seemed to shed those 20s insecurities.

This LEADS experience created a snowball effect -- I am now more involved than ever in the Jewish community and attend regular events, often with the friends I made from fall LEADS. Not to mention, I've met so many new and interesting friends through the contacts I made from the group.

All of that early 30s self-awareness I've gained so far has also provided me with the right attitude and openness to let some really great, new people in. If we accept that we never stop growing, it's amazing who we might meet along the way.

"Clear Eyes, Full Hearts, Can't Lose."

Spring LEADS registration is closed as sessions begin next week, but for information about future LEADS sessions and other YLD opportunities, emailyld@juf.org

2016-03-17
]]>Fit at 40 and Beyondhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27597&blogid=142
I am not one of those people who think 40 is old. I’m a few weeks from hitting that milestone, and I’m not having a midlife crisis -- well, at least not yet.]]>Lindsey_22016-03-16T13:59:09ZRon Krit

I am not one of those people who think 40 is old. I'm a few weeks from hitting that milestone, and I'm not having a midlife crisis -- well, at least not yet.

I am, however, changing how I work out and eat. Long gone are the days of leg-pressing 800 pounds (my only weight-room brag), bench pressing, and carbo-loading. With minor hip and shoulder surgeries along with a broken bone in my foot behind me, I'm more cautious at the gym.

Here are a few hacks that keep me pain-free and fit:

Speed walking: Trust me, I never wanted to admit to speed-walking; I once guilted a client into running because I incessantly made fun of her power-walks. Now, I love it. It doesn't hurt my foot like running and I still feel like I'm getting my heart-rate up. If I'm not outside, I'm using a self-propelled treadmill because it's a more natural motion and you burn more calories doing it. My favorite is the
Woodway
because its surface is easier on your joints then the usual treadmill.

Workout prep: I warm up before workouts, and use a foam roll often. If I'm at the gym, I head to the sauna for five minutes before working out. It's a great way to warm up my muscles. After my hip scope, my doctor suggested it, and I'm hooked. When I get out on the gym floor I'm doing butt-kicks, high-knees, hip-swings, shuffling or some forms of yoga moves before I hit the weights. I use a foam roller after workouts, and if I don't have time, I'll do it at home while watching TV.

Body weight exercises are my jam (I think that's how kids are using that word)! I use a
TRX
often for rowing exercises and legs. I'm a huge fan of single leg exercises like squatting and deadlifting. Since my wrists are a little creaky I like to use a
Perfect Pushup
to perform pushups or use two dumbbells instead of putting my hands flat on the ground. I do pump some iron and use a lot of bands.

Recovery: I'm ok with being sore after a workout, but if I feel like I was hit by a car, I'll make sure to change my workout next time. I am also a huge fan of massages. I don't get them often enough, but if you can afford it, do it. Just make sure you find a good masseuse.

Cold showers are also part of my routine after a workout. They wake me up and help cool me off so I'm not a sweaty mess when I return to work. When I have time, I'll take a bath in Epsom salt. I love getting in the water and I try to swim or at least walk in the water once a week or more during the summer. I also love Forrest Yoga. I recommend trying to find a yoga class you really like and mixing it into your routine once a week. On days I do not workout, I'll do a handful of yoga poses at home. Since my 4-year-old does it at school, it's a fun family activity.

Along with foam-rolling, I like to use a tennis ball or lacrosse ball to massage my muscles and bands for stretching. My only tip here is start easy and warm up the tissue before digging real deep.
Kelly Starrett
has a bunch of interesting videos online where he uses bands, rollers and balls for stretching. It's also important to listen to your body. If you have a tough workout planned but feel like crap, take it easy.

Time: I could easily spend a few hours in the gym, but who has that type of time? With a full-time job, a part-time job, a wife and two crazy boys, I want to get in and out of the gym. I also move a lot throughout the day. I'll get up and do some stretching in my office. My boss is on to me -- he'll look at me in a meeting and know my subtle move is a stretch. Since I do not have a ton of time in the gym, I take little breaks when I work out and I am big fan of intervals. Interval training is when you increase and decrease your intensity level during the workout. A basic example: sprint for 30 seconds, and then walk for 30 seconds, repeat that for 20 minutes. This type of training has shown tremendous results for weight loss, and speed improvement.

Sure, I still want to look good in my Speedo (for the record, I don't really own a Speedo), but I'm training for life. I want energy to keep up with my boys and the strength to be able to toss them in the air for a long, long time.

If you're not exercising, get moving. Start slow and listen to your joints, whether they're antiques like mine or still young and fresh.

2016-03-16
]]>Get realhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27592&blogid=142
Like so many other Jewish little girls on Purim, my big sister and I would both dress up for our annual Purim carnival as Queen Esther. The morning of the carnival, my mom would dress us in regal dresses, bright red lipstick, and a homemade crown or sparkly tiara my mom had bought for this very occasion--and only this occasion--so as to raise grounded daughters the rest of the year.]]>Lindsey_22016-03-14T15:12:15ZCindy Sher

Like so many other Jewish little girls on Purim, my big sister and I would both dress up for our annual Purim carnival as Queen Esther. The morning of the carnival, my mom would dress us in regal dresses, bright red lipstick, and a homemade crown or sparkly tiara my mom had bought for this very occasion--and only this occasion--so as to raise grounded daughters the rest of the year.

And in households down the street, the Jewish boys I knew would dress as the male hero of Purim--Mordechai.

Our costumes were a fun way to reinforce the attributes of these Jewish heroes who were brave, and stood up for what's right.

But then, after a couple hours at the carnival, we'd reach our Purim fill. The combs at the ends of the tiara would start to scratch the backs of our ears, the lipstick would smear on girls too young to pull off crimson red, and our bellies would ache from cotton candy and hamentaschen overload. At that point, we'd go home, take off our royal dresses, and return to our comfy play clothes--still brave girls--minus the fancy costumes. And being ourselves, it turned out, was pretty nice too.

Thirty years later, my generation of Queen Esthers and Mordechais are all grown up, but we're still working on taking off our masks.

For most people, learning to be comfortable in our own skin, becoming our authentic selves, is a lifelong work in progress.

In some ways, media today--particularly social media--has made it all the easier to don a mask. On Facebook, for instance, we package ourselves exactly the way we want the public to see us--as the shiniest, happiest-looking versions of ourselves. As we scroll through our newsfeeds of our friends' adorable babies and dogs, or better yet, the baby posed with the family dog, brides and grooms so perfect they might as well perch themselves on top of a wedding cake, and pictures of us sipping piña coladas on the beach, things look fantastic.

Yet, that's just it. Those pictures are fantasy. As someone once told me, "I wish I was having as much fun in real life as I am on Facebook." Because, come on, get real. No one's that happy all the time.

But it's not all fake. Despite the virtual masks we sometimes wear, society can be an easier place to be real and open these days than in the past--if we choose to.

As the world grows smaller, we're revealing ourselves and relating to one another in a way that often makes us feel less alone. In this age of sharing (and over-sharing), some of us are shedding light on the parts of us that aren't so shiny and happy all the time. In the world's biggest group therapy session, we're electronically sharing our emotional, mental, and physical struggles with each other more than ever before. We're bonding over our shared human experiences of love, loss, failure and success, spiritual growth, and purpose. We're more likely to admit that life isn't only sunshine and rainbows--and that makes each of us feel less alone in whatever we're going through.

A couple of years ago, I wrote a blog post about my mom's struggle with--and, thank God, her triumph over--bipolar disorder. My mom post garnered more "likes" and positive response than any other piece I'd written in 15 years. For months, people would approach me with their personal mental health struggles. Before that time, I had rarely spoken or written in a public forum about the previously stigmatized illness.

But then I figured times have changed and her illness is no longer shrouded in darkness, and it's something so many people are touched by. Plus, I realized that being open could go a long way in helping people face whatever hardships they're dealing with.

It's wonderful to teach our kids to embody the bravery of heroes like Esther and Mordechai, and it's exciting to dress up as someone else every now and then.

But when the tiara starts to itch and we grow tired of our disguises, let's remember that the best and bravest face to wear at the end of the day is our own.

2016-03-14
]]>What They Don’t Teach You in Schoolhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27585&blogid=142
Last weekend, a high schooler I work with asked me when I graduated from college. I told her 2012. “Wow! That was soooo long ago,” she said, without a gleam of sarcasm.]]>Lindsey_22016-03-10T15:02:18ZLauren Schmidt

Last weekend, a high schooler I work with asked me when I graduated from college. I told her 2012.

"Wow! That was soooo long ago," she said, without a gleam of sarcasm.

Was it? As I processed that it has been almost four years since I was last a student -- in the formal sense at least -- it seemed hard to believe for a moment. My days of late nights in the library, marathons of student org meetings, and, of course, happy hours and frat parties, however, seem exceedingly far behind me.

Still, as a young professional, I find myself reflecting on college and school in general quite often. As I wrapped up my conversation with this student, I started to think about what I learned in college, both within and beyond the classroom.

This also led me to think of all of the things that I wish I had learned, but never learned in any level of school. There are many professional and life skills more beneficial in our daily lives than physics and calculus, which I think I managed to never take nonetheless, but that is beside the point.

The skills that 20-somethings need to know go beyond what is conveyed in textbooks. Although I am fairly confident this is something every Millennial who enjoys crafting prose has touched upon at some point, I am beyond confident that it's still all too relevant, which is why I present to you my list of top 10 things I wish were taught in school.

Disclaimer: Although I am fully capable of doing some of these things (Microsoft Office is my everything -- is that weird to say? Probably.), please know that if anyone asked me to do my taxes alone or change a tire, I would be more lost than Nemo.

1. How to do your taxes

2. How to change a tire

3. How to jump a car

4. How to make an effective budget

5. How to use Microsoft Office

6. How to effectively manage stress

7. How to unplug/disconnect from technology

8. How to understand insurance policies (yes -- all kinds, people need to know more)

9. How to invest your money

10. How to hang a picture without damaging the wall

I could probably go on for pages on things that I wish I would've learned in school, but I will leave you with this. Life skills are just as important as academic knowledge, and let's hope the next generation can collectively become more functioning adults. Until then, I am off to Google picture-hanging techniques or something like that.

2016-03-10
]]>Purim and the Blame Gamehttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27581&blogid=142
If someone pushed a button that released a fleet of nuclear missiles all over the United States and then quickly shot down each one saving everyone from utter destruction, would we call them a hero?]]>Lindsey_22016-03-09T10:30:36ZJoshua Marder

Esther beseeches King Ahasuerus to revoke his decree against the Jews

If someone pushed a button that released a fleet of nuclear missiles all over the United States and then quickly shot down each one saving everyone from utter destruction, would we call them a hero? Would everyone cheer for joy at their "savior" who saved them from imminent death and destruction and appoint them as the leader of our people for his great care and love of our nation?

No, we'd lock them up! The nerve of them to put us all through the horrifying traumatic experience of potentially we were all going to die! Who cares if they stopped it? It's their fault it happened!

All of this sounds very logical. Then we come to the holiday of Purim. We're all familiar with the story how Haman (Booo!!!) wanted to wipe out the Jews. He set up a date that every Jew in the entire land of Persia was going to be killed. Then Mordecai and Esther make this unbelievable divinely staged rescue of the entire nation, and everyone is saved.

But wait one minute -- we're skipping one step. The story actually says, toward the beginning, "When Haman (minor egomaniac) saw that Mordecai (our beloved protagonist) did not bow down and prostrate himself before him (serious narcissism issues going on), Haman was filled with rage (the ancient anger management groups weren't helping) … so Haman sought to destroy all the Jews throughout the entire kingdom …"

Wait a minute? The whole stage of destruction was set by our beloved hero? Yup. And we celebrate his victory for the Jewish people of stopping this destruction. Wasn't it all his fault?

We had another moment of blame opportunity in our history where things didn't go so well, all the way back in the beginning of the Torah. A quick recap: G-d says, "Don't eat the fruit." Snake says, "Eat the fruit." Eve eats. Adam eats. G-d confronts them, "Adam, what happened?" Adam says, "It was the woman." G-d says, "Eve, what happened?" Eve says, "It was the snake." And everyone gets punished happily ever after.

Why were they punished? Weren't they just pointing out the truth?

The difference between these two stories is all about taking responsibility. Adam and Eve had a choice not to eat, but they blamed others for their misbehavior. They didn't accept responsibility and they were punished.

In the story of Purim, the Jewish people could easily have shirked their responsibility for this decree of destruction and blamed Mordecai. But let's look a little deeper. Haman was angry because Mordecai wasn't bowing down. Why wasn't he bowing down? The Talmud tells us that Haman wore an idol around his neck. Everyone else acquiesced. Everyone bowing down was inevitably bowing to an idol, which constituted a complete abandonment of the most basic tenet of Judaism, our belief in one G-d. That belief was being put to the test. Mordecai was the only one who actually passed it.

Deep down, everyone knew this truth. Instead of covering up their angst and fears with blame, they took responsibility for their behavior They recognized that their bowing down was an abandonment of their faith and heritage. The Jewish people accepted responsibility and realized it was incumbent upon them to preserve Judaism for all future generations. Subsequently Mordecai and Esther led them toward a path of teshuvah, which literally means "return" but is better understood to mean acceptance of responsibility and a commitment to change.

This is a beautiful lesson of Purim. We have two ways to approach our challenges in life: We can look at our difficulties and complain about all the challenges we see, or we can accept responsibility for our reality and make a commitment to change just like our ancestors did.

There is a fantastic opportunity for anyone who wants to enjoy and experience the Purim spirit this year in Chicago. Join us at the Downtown Purim Lunch and Learn at noon on Thursday, March 24 at JUF building, 30 S. Wells St. There will be a reading of the Scroll of Esther, accompanied by a slideshow with translation, and insights to help us internalize the deep messages and lessons of our Jewish heritage.

2016-03-09
]]>From Chicago to Jerusalem: Two Homes, One Memoryhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27573&blogid=142
Growing up in the Chicago Jewish community, I was raised with a deep sense of pride in our history. I was taught how to love my community and to love my city because of its rich cultural history.]]>Lindsey_22016-03-08T14:58:49ZKatie Matanky

Photo credit: Shahar Azran

Growing up in the Chicago Jewish community, I was raised with a deep sense of pride in our history. I was taught how to love my community and to love my city because of its rich cultural history. Chicago's Jewish community is marked by people who really care about each other and I knew growing up that I was never alone.

Since making aliyah and moving to Israel three years ago, I've realized how fortunate I was to have spent not only my childhood, but also my formative college years, in such a tight-knit place. Yet, in Israel, I feel a distinctly different sense of fulfillment.

One of my Jewish heroes, the educator and visionary Avraham Infeld, says that "being Jewish is like having a five-legged table" standing on memory, family, covenant, Israel, and Hebrew. Interestingly, Infeld refers to Jewish "memory," as opposed to Jewish "history," because unlike a history book,
he explains that memory is a living thing driving us forward constantly.

Living in Israel, this sentiment proves true for me on a daily basis. I feel as though I am tapping into a living, vibrant communal memory.

Today, when I ride the bus in Jerusalem, the thousands of years of Jewish memory passing by my window are also pulsing through my veins, bringing me in and making me part of it. These quiet, passing moments help validate my decision to move to Israel, because at the end of the day, it was a choice I made -- and it wasn't easy.

I've always had a deep connection to Israel. I participated in Jewish life in ways that will sound very familiar to many of my peers. I was raised in a religious Zionist household, studied in Israel after high school, served as president and Israel Intern of my campus Hillel, and already had family and friends living in Israel when I made aliyah.

Still, aliyah is an individual decision, and everyone has to make it for her or himself.

I have also realized that, like with any major life decision, whether it's graduating school or moving to a new city, you have to really
want
it in order to succeed. Otherwise, it can be too easy to get discouraged. That's just human nature. When it comes to Israel, people talk about the wars and the violence and the bureaucracy and the supposedly rude disposition of Israelis, but knowing these issues in the abstract versus dealing with them in real life are two different things.

No one prepares you for when the IDF enters Gaza and you have loved ones fighting there. No one prepares you for when terror attacks start happening on a daily basis, and you stop feeling comfortable wearing headphones while taking a walk or allowing yourself to doze off on the bus. And putting the waves of terror and violence aside, it's tough to prepare to take on a new identity of "immigrant," an identity I will carry for the rest of my life. I've been learning to embrace a new normal and everything that comes along with it as part of the journey. Just like Chicago, or any city, you can't have the good aspects without the challenging ones.

Ultimately, finding ways to remind yourself that you do, in fact,
want
to be in Israel is not as hard as you might think.

This country has a funny way of presenting us with striking moments of clarity and inspiration. I once had a cab driver who thought I was a native Israeli because of my Hebrew during the drive, only for me to get flustered and promptly forget the Hebrew word for "compliment." And I recall conversations with strangers on international flights that have reminded me that life is equally fragile wherever you are. Sometimes these moments will be fleeting, and sometimes they plant themselves firmly in your head.

One of those lasting moments came last April while I was working at Yad Vashem experiencing the national ceremony for Yom HaShoah, Israel's Holocaust Remembrance Day, for the first time. Each year, six Holocaust survivors are chosen to share their stories and light six torches symbolic of the six million Jews who were murdered in the Shoah. One of the torch-lighters was
Avraham Harshalom, who told his story about surviving the camps, escaping to Israel and fighting to establish its independence. After the ceremony, I approached Avraham in awe just to say "thank you." I thanked him not only for his service to our country and his contribution to Jewish memory, but also for the stark reminder that living in Israel, today, right now, is a privilege not to be taken for granted, and it's something that I
want.

History can be documented and catalogued on paper, sealed in a book or put on a shelf. Memory, on the other hand, can be fuzzy at times - but it moves us and it's personal. That is why I live in Israel, because being here makes my Jewish memory lucid and enduring and alive and provides me with endless motivation to continue embracing this journey.

Courtesy Katie Matanky

Katie Matanky is a proud Chicago native living in Jerusalem and working in International Relations at Yad Vashem. She made Aliyah on the 50th Nefesh B'Nefesh charter flight, in 2013.

2016-03-08
]]>If I Had a Smartphone in 4th Gradehttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27564&blogid=142
Boy am I glad this kind of app -- or this technology in general -- wasn’t around
when I was busy trying to read about Ramona Quimby and Wayside School.]]>Lindsey_22016-03-07T15:59:41ZLia (Lehrer) Goldfarb

I recently learned that some elementary school-aged children are asking their parents for permission to download a smartphone app called Musical.ly. This app allows users to create their own lip sync selfie music videos that can be shared, liked and commented on across social networks.

Yes -- elementary school children. The ones in question are in third and fourth grade.

One parent told me that a friend of her daughter was sad because she made a video and nobody "liked" the video. Sure, we're all familiar with "likes" from our beloved Facebook, but a) most people I know didn't join Facebook until at least high school, and b) most people I know aren't recording selfie lip sync videos.

I can only imagine these poor girls, who probably shouldn't be quitting their day jobs (being a fourth grade student) to make these videos, probably the subject of teasing and maybe even that "nobody-liked-my-Facebook-post" feeling of loneliness. (Seriously, can more people please press "like" when I post my blog to Facebook? Please?)

These fourth grade kids have most likely not yet developed their public speaking inhibitions or their judgment about what is and isn't appropriate for the immortal Internet.

Boy, am I glad this kind of app -- or this technology in general -- wasn't around when I was busy trying to read about Ramona Quimby and Wayside School.

It makes me wonder … if this technology was around when I was an elementary school kid, what kind of videos of me would be easily searchable? App developers, take note!

Lia Does Her Homework. Join in once a week as you watch Lia work through math, English, and science assignments. Watch until the end for "extra credit!"

Lia Follows the Rules in Gym. You don't have to be the best athlete; just listening to the teacher and putting in a good effort is nice, too! Watch Lia's short videos as she studies the rules of soccer and shows up to class on time regularly.

Lia Plays Dress-Up. It's fun, it's wholesome, and it's not even Halloween or Purim! Jump into the costume box as we pretend we're princesses and Dorothy with our favorite friends.

Lia Gets Into a Fight. Not a fist fight, of course, but a petty elementary school girl fight! More enticing than
Serial, this podcast will follow the ins and outs of which girls we're talking to this week and which ones we won't make eye contact with.
Note: We NEVER talk to boys.

Lia Plans Her Birthday Party. What shall it be this year, YouTube fans? Should we have a jewelry-making party? How about a party where we jump into foam blocks at a gymnastics place? Or perhaps a pottery-painting party? Stick with us every step of the way as we tour venues, interview store owners and sample birthday cakes.

To the little girls hoping to become Musical.ly stars -- maybe just stay little girls a little while longer.

2016-03-07
]]>Choosing a Name For Our Jewish Babyhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27558&blogid=142
Imagine this for a moment. You are the creator of something completely new, special and unique. Your creation is about to come into the universe, and you are given the task of choosing the name. You have some ideas, but the moment to decide is rapidly approaching.]]>Lindsey_22016-03-04T15:03:43ZAri Moffic Silver

Imagine this for a moment.

You are the creator of something completely new, special and unique. Your creation is about to come into the universe, and you are given the task of choosing the name. You have some ideas, but the moment to decide is rapidly approaching.

What do you do?

My heart skipped a beat just thinking back to the very first time I recall ever thinking of baby names. I was in second grade.

I was already over a year into a very serious relationship with a girl that I cared very deeply about and felt very close to (in case you were wondering, yes -- it was reciprocal). Anyway, we were so certain of a relationship lasting (spoiler alert: it didn't) that one day we were working on a list of baby names that we liked for our children.

It was an impressive list. On one side of the paper was a list of girls' names, in purple or pink, and the other side had boys' names, drawn in blue. I don't recall all the names on the list, but it grew over time, with her and I exchanging the list between each other like a secret note. I smile remembering how she would pass me in the classroom and, on occasion, whisper something like, "I like Jacob," just to remind me which way she was leaning if it was going to be a boy.

Those were the days. It wasn't so hard back then to think of great Jewish names for children. Playing House is playing House, but as a husband and a father-to-be, it was not as I had imagined it as a second grade kid.

When my wife, Ashley, and I were considering names for our daughter-to-be, we were faced with that big decision for the first time. We had talked about it a lot over the course of our relationship and discovered a lot about what names mean to both of us. We both shared deep connections with loved ones who had passed, but now that having our daughter was imminent, the question was whether or not we could come to an agreement.

Early on, Ashley was not shy to point out that there was also the child's Hebrew name to consider, which she said she was more than happy to defer to me if she could choose the English name.

Nice try, hun.

Of course she was only joking, but she knew this was going to be a big deal for both of us, and it was nice that she respected what value the Hebrew name would bring to our child. We also wanted to enjoy the experience and savor the journey we were taking together. So, we did like any good Jewish parents would do and started going through every Jewish baby name book our parents gave us, while adding our favorites along the way, Jewish or not.

We zoomed across countless websites that poured over every detail and described every back story and origin for the name you could possibly think of. We talked to everyone, and I mean everyone -- I even polled my then-third grade class for their favorites.

Now, figuring out how Ashley and I were going to come together to make this decision was another challenge. After soliciting more advice, we went with an idea where we started in separate rooms and each wrote our own lists. Then we exchanged lists in the same room and circled the ones we loved, crossed out the ones we absolutely could not negotiate, and left the rest as options.

I confess that it took me much longer to draft my list than Ashley, because I think she already had her list in her head for a
long
time, but the plan worked. When we swapped lists, it was astonishing how close we were to agreement, and there wasn't one name that both of us agreed we
had
to have. So we went back and forth on a handful of names, all the way through our move out to the suburbs weeks before the delivery, even into July 4th weekend, which was more than a week before the due date. At that point, the only thing we were both in agreement over was to not decide until we met her -- whatever felt right among the choices we both liked would win.

Well, she couldn't wait to get her name, because on July 5, 2014, our daughter came into the universe healthy and with eyes wide open. In time (about 10 minutes later), we looked at each other, then at our daughter, and knew in our hearts what she would be called.

We introduced her to our families as Emma Bayla, named after my grandfathers Edward Silver and Samuel Edward Moffic, and Ashley's grandmother Barbara. Her Hebrew name, which we also chose together, is Adiya, meaning "G-d's Jewel." We couldn't be prouder and happier with our decision, though in a way, we believe she chose it for herself. This weekend she turns 20 months old, and happily squeals her name loud and proud, "Emma! Emma!"

As for our son coming in April -- well, that's a whole other blog.

Until next time, L'Chaim!

2016-03-04
]]>Saffron Yogurt and Garlic Marinated Chickenhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27552&blogid=142
Every Sunday morning, I sit down in front of my steaming cappuccino and plan my menu for the week.]]>Lindsey_22016-03-03T09:56:44ZMila Furman

Every Sunday morning, I sit down in front of my steaming cappuccino and plan my menu for the week. It's a piece of my week that I look forward to. Typically, I'm overwhelmed with ideas thanks to my daily Facebook feed of bloggers, but every once in a while I get stumped -- and it is typically when I get to the word chicken.

Chicken breasts can get quite blah after a while. Plus, considering it is the only animal protein (other than fish and eggs) that I allow in the house, I have to be creative!

On one of those Sunday mornings, I chose to sip my cappuccino in front of the TV as I watched a riveting episode of the Shahs of Sunset, a guilty pleasure of mine. It just so happened that in the latest installment of the Shahs, they were sitting around an ornately decorated table in the reunion special. And as they threw one jab after another at each other, I was distracted by the gorgeous food on the table. Yellow rice. Grilled meats. Yogurt sauce. This all reminded me how very much I love Persian cuisine.

In the summer, I frequently grill up chicken tawook very similar to Azita's
joojeh kebob. The yogurt gives the chicken a perfectly delicate texture and a slightly tangy flavor. It's fantastic on the grill.

But of course I found a way to improve this.

I used a yogurt marinade along with lots of garlic, onions, cilantro, parsley, lemon juice and salt and pepper. I also added some gorgeous saffron that gives this dish a distinct yellow color.

Saffron is really pricey, but fortunately you will only need a few threads. And Costco recently started carrying it for a nice price. If you cannot find saffron, you can cheat and add some turmeric to the mix instead to give it a nice color. 1 tablespoon or so will do.

2 pounds of chicken breast cut in half so they are thinner (you can also use boneless, skinless chicken thighs but use 3 pounds)
1½ cups of yogurt
8 garlic cloves
1 large onion peeled and cut in half
½ a cup of water
8 threads of saffron steeped in a ¼ cup of water or 1 tbsp of turmeric
a handful of cilantro
juice of one lemon
salt and pepper to taste
4 tablespoons of butter
more olive oil for frying

INSTRUCTIONS

1. Before adding the saffron to the chicken, you have to steep it like a tea in hot water. It will start to release it's beautiful golden color.

2. Place yogurt, water, garlic, onion, saffron or turmeric, cilantro and lemon into a blender or a food processor and pulse until smooth. Taste for salt and pepper and add as necessary.

3. Place chicken cutlets into a sealable bag and add yogurt mixture on top.

4. Close the bag and swish the mixture around so everything is evenly covered. Let stand for 60 minutes to 24 hours.

5. Place butter and olive oil into a pan, ensuring that the butter melts.

6. Over medium heat, fry the chicken on one side for about 5 minutes or until golden brown.

7. At this point, you can either turn over the chicken and cook on the other side or place into a 450-degree oven for 5 minutes.

8. If grilling, cut the chicken into large cubes and marinate. Then place on skewers and allow for it to grill for 6 minutes on each on a high flame.

2016-03-03
]]>Interview with swimming gold medalist Jason Lezakhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27545&blogid=142
We have all seen him swim. Glued to our televisions over the past few Olympics, Jason Lezak has become one of the most decorated swimmers, Olympians, and Jewish athletes of all time. His participation in the Maccabiah Games over the World Championships was a historic Jewish sports moment.]]>Lindsey_22016-02-29T15:57:07ZJeremy Fine

We have all seen him swim. Glued to our televisions over the past few Olympics, Jason Lezak has become one of the most decorated swimmers, Olympians, and Jewish athletes of all time. His participation in the Maccabiah Games over the World Championships was a historic Jewish sports moment.

I am really excited that Lezak is now a part of my team at
TheGreatRabbino.com. Read the interview and sign up to bring him to your event. And swimmers everywhere can sign up to go to Israel with the legend himself. Just click
HERE.

1. Tell us about yourself.

I grew up in Irvine, California and began swimming at the age of five, played on the high school basketball team and become an All-American in water polo. In 1998, I made an impact at the U.S. National Championships that year winning my first national title in the 100m freestyle and then went on to win a gold and silver medal at the 2000 Olympic Games. At the 2004 Olympic Games, I took home a bronze medal in the 4x100m freestyle relay and the gold in a world-record-breaking swim in the 4x100m medley relay. I also represented the U.S. in Israel at the Maccabiah Games. It was a tough decision to make having to pass on the World Championships but this was more than just another swim competition.

2. You had such a historic Olympic career. What was the highlight?

The 2008 Olympics 4x100 free relay. We had lost the previous two Olympics after never losing before in Olympic history. To help bring back gold for USA was really special.

3. What was the best part of swimming with Michael Phelps? What makes him so unique?

To watch him prepare for a race and see his focus and determination. He is unique because not only does he do all the strokes at the highest level, he can do short distances as well as middle distances. Never has there been anyone who comes even close to him.

4. Is there any event you wish you had competed in but it didn't work out?

I wish I could have represented the USA at Maccabiah in 2001 and 2005, but unfortunately it interfered with World Championships. Since I was swimming professionally as my job, I needed to go to the Worlds.

5. Are you good at other water sports like skiing, diving or water polo?

I was an All-American water polo player in high school. Every year at UC Santa Barbara the coach wanted me to join the college team, but I decided it was too tough to do both if I wanted to achieve my dream of making the Olympics one day.

6. What was your Jewish upbringing like?

I was brought up in a Reform synagogue. I went to Hebrew school as a kid and had my bar mitzvah at 13.

7. What have you been up to since you last swam in the Olympics?

After I retired from swimming in 2012 I have been doing swim clinics across the country, swim camps around the world, motivational speaking, and other appearances. I love the sport of swimming and enjoy still being a part of it in a different way.

8. Anything else you want to share?

Going to Israel in 2009 was a special trip for me. I learned so much of it as a kid and always wanted to experience it. I always saw myself as Jewish and an athlete, but being able to compete in the Maccabiah games, I -- for the first time -- saw myself different. Putting them together I was a Jewish athlete.

2016-02-29
]]>5 Impressions of Chicago from an Outsiderhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27541&blogid=142
To say the last eight months have been a whirlwind would be a tad of an understatement. Following graduation from Indiana University-Bloomington last May, I picked up almost immediately and moved to the Windy City for a fabulous opportunity with a communications firm in River North. ]]>Lindsey_22016-02-25T14:10:20ZBen Cutler

To say the last eight months have been a whirlwind would be a tad of an understatement. Following graduation from Indiana University-Bloomington last May, I picked up almost immediately and moved to the Windy City for a fabulous opportunity with a communications firm in River North.

Hailing from Akron, Ohio, I will always be a loyal Northeast Ohioan, but I would be lying if I said I didn't already have a soft spot for Chicago. Here are a few of my "outsider" impressions over the last eight months.

Chicagoans love their skyline

I am often reminded that the lush skyline of Cleveland -- which consists of factories, old banking buildings and a football stadium dubbed the "factory of tears" -- bears no resemblance to the likes of "Big John," the Willis Tower, the Trump Tower and the Aon Center. The skyline is truly a remarkable piece of the city. I constantly find myself looking up at the beautiful buildings and architecture while perusing the loop on any given Saturday.

Chicago is a city built on hard work

A blue-collar work ethic was one of the main reasons I decided to remain in the Midwest for work. Day in and day out I am constantly amazed by the collective work ethic of the city. No matter the time, day or place, Chicagoans always seem to be plugged in and working. Of course I know no one works all the time, but for a young professional still trying to find his way in the world of work, it is inspiring to be surrounded by hard-working folks who are proud of what they do.

Watering holes, watering holes and bars

No if, ands or buts about this observation: There is absolutely no shortage of bars in Chicago. I realize I am pointing out the obvious, but coming from a city with a few decent bars and a college town dominated by two, the variety is unbelievable. As a Cleveland sports and Indiana Hoosiers fan, I am loyal to Vaughn's Pub and Kirkwood's respectively, but I can't wait to explore. I am increasingly fascinated by the way bars in different locations show off the unique characteristics of each neighborhood.

A vibrant Jewish community

One of my first Fridays in the city, I was jogging on Fullerton near the lake when I came across a large group in the park. With my curiosity piqued, I did a bit of investigating and what I found gave me the chills. A large group of young Jews had gathered in the park to celebrate Shabbat.

I have been to Israel three times and celebrated holidays at the Western Wall, but this scene was truly incredible. With the backdrop of a large, immaculate city on one side, the gorgeous shore of Lake Michigan on the other and the Shabbat prayers rising in unity somewhere in between, I truly felt at home for the first time.

Diversity

Chicago is incredibly diverse in more ways than one. In addition to the unique and vibrant neighborhoods, I have encountered people of every background, race, ethnicity and religion. While I will admit to noticing both tension and ignorance, I know people are proud to call Chicago home. I even had a cab driver comment that he tried moving to New York for a few months, but ended up moving back to the friendly confines of Chicago because his ethnicity was often looked at with disdain.

Regardless of ethnicity, race or sexual orientation, Chicago truly has a place for everyone.

As I finish writing this, I'm on a plane traveling from my old home to my current home, yearning to catch a glimpse of that breathtaking skyline. I can't wait to see what else this magnificent city has in store.

2016-02-25
]]>5 Reasons Video Games Are My Bookshttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27535&blogid=142
Life. Not the cereal, or the “Game of,” but the one we all live in. That life. It’s a tough one, and sometimes, a little escape is in order.]]>StevenChaitman@juf.org2016-02-24T13:44:09ZAlthough I still have booksAdam Daniel Miller

Life. Not the cereal, or the "Game of," but the one we all live in. That life. It's a tough one, and sometimes, a little escape is in order. When stress threatens to take me down a peg or two, I say, "Hey! How did I get on this wall of pegs?" But in every other case when stress needs to be managed, I find solace, beauty and peace in the wonderful world of video games.

It is often stereotypically said that
introverts like myself
are keen on staying home and reading books. Well for me, I like to stay home and play video games. And also sometimes read books. (Comics count as books!) So what follows is me explaining to you -- my unabashedly attractive Oy! readers -- how in my world, I use video games as my go-to activity when I need some time to escape.

Warning: I will be mentioning specific videogame titles in what follows, so as to help inform you as to what I'm talking about if you are curious enough. And there will be links to more information about these games. Yes, it may require additional reading but reading is good -- like playing video games to some people.

Now please enjoy my abbreviated list of 18 five ways that video games are my books.

1. They can have amazing stories

I'm a different kind of gamer than most people think when I tell them I play video games. I love games where story drives the game. I'm the only person I know that plays
Halo
-- a mostly online multiplayer shooting game -- for its single player story (also called a campaign) and doesn't go online to play with others. I never do that. Introverts unite separately!

Anyway, a few of my absolute favorites are the
BioShock
series, whose story revolves around a man-made city at the bottom of the ocean and then a man-made city in sky. Then there's
The Last of Us, a game set in a post-apocalyptic world that is not so much about the post-apocalyptic world but more so about the relationship of a 50-something year old man and a teenage girl as they come to fill a surrogate father-daughter role for each other as they go through a relentless and harrowing journey where they learn to trust and love again. See!? If you get me started on those games, I will never shut up. Ask my girlfriend of the torture she's been through. Which leads me too…

2. When playing through a good game, it's all I can think and talk about

Not only that, it helps me bond with others. James Bond, for those of you that played
Goldeneye 007
on Nintendo 64 growing up. But it's true, because games take roughly the same amount of time as books for me (about 8-12 hours on average), I play them over a few days if not weeks. This gives me a lot to look forward to every day, knowing I have some stress relief and an amazing other world to keep revisiting once I get home.

But when it is a phenomenal game, it's still all I can think and talk about, even when I'm not playing it, like with
The Last of Us -- that's a game I'd talk about at any given moment. Like this moment. You know, the moment where now I'm thinking about it and will probably have to play it again because it gives me oh so much happiness.

3. They are art

There has been a long-standing debate about whether or not video games are art. I stand firmly on the side that says indeed, video games are art. The visceral nature of them can be astounding. The storytelling can be a strong factor, but even games without story have so much nuance and precision in them that you can feel the meticulous nature that went into creating them. Visually, they are getting to unparalleled levels of realism. Many games use motion capture, or taking real actors and capturing their movements, voices and expressions with a computer and then utilizing all of that data to actually create the characters. It's astounding how beautifully rendered this can be. It gives me a sense of being fully immersed and experiencing something special that few other mediums can accomplish. I could probably write an entire article on why video games are art if I wanted to. Perhaps not the worst idea for the future …

Here's one scene in particular to show my point on how video games are art. It's from
The Last of Us, of course, because this game deserves another mention. I cried when
I first played through this scene. (Warning: Slight spoilers for the game and NSFW language) They were manly videogame tears, so it was cool.

4. They have unlimited replay value

Like a great book I want to read over and over, there are many video games I want to experience and play through over and over. This is because each time I will discover new things and take an extra moment or two to really dive deep into certain areas. Sometimes knowing what to expect increases that anticipation of getting to that awesome part even more. And you know you found something special when every time I play through the game, the experience is not diluted, but enhanced. Like every play through of
The Last of Us. Not sure if I've mentioned that game before, but it's good.

5. It feeds my love of voice acting

I love voice acting, especially in animated form. So that obviously lends itself well to my love of video games. I even once wrote a huge list of 25 of the best voiceover actors out there. Sadly, there is no link. (That's a funny joke if you know video games.)

While I could list some many voice actors and the many great games you can hear their voices in, I'll keep it short to some of the pinnacle games I feel deserve an immediate mention. There's everything from the game
Portal 2,
one of the funniest games in existence, the
Uncharted
series, which is basically a modern day
Indiana Jones, and really anything involving Mark Hamill, Troy Baker or Nolan North. So basically the
Batman: Arkham Asylum
series. Or
The Last of Us, since both Troy Baker and Nolan North have prominent roles in that one.

Thanks for letting me talk to you about something passionate to me. This gives you a free pass to tell me something you are passionate about without interruption for about 1,200 words. Right after I go play
The Last of Us.

2016-02-24
]]>Anorexia Made Me Empathetichttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27531&blogid=142
I confused sickly and sexy for too many years. Now, I'm convinced you're doing it, and I don't want to be an accessory in your rendezvous with sickness.]]>Lindsey_22016-02-23T14:59:28ZEliana Block

I confused sickly and sexy for too many years. Now, I'm convinced you're doing it, and I don't want to be an accessory in your rendezvous with sickness.

Because I know that boat neck collar used to not be so big. I knew you when your collar didn't slip and fall in a way so your right shoulder jutted out like an alabaster boulder, as if to say, "I'm casual," in a way you thought couture. But instead of speaking my mind -- of preaching, of mothering -- I turn to my boyfriend and say how I don't want you to die, and he looks at me, all shaken, and carefully says, "you can't save the world."

But it kills me to see your obsession eat up your life.

So in recognition of Eating Disorder Awareness Week (Feb. 21-27), when courageous men and women share their ongoing survival stories, I write this post for me, I write this post for you, but truly, friend, I write this post for we:

We know that coffee is not a meal, but we do it anyways, because we want our energy low cal, or rather, Venti Skinny Mocha half soy with two Splendas.

We tell our parents how much we've eaten that day -- we even send them pictures to prove it -- because they ask us to. We pretend it's normal for parents to ask.

We get asked all the time to see a picture of what we looked like when we were anorexic, as if they can't believe that WE were ever thin mints. We show them pictures of our once-lanky frame because it secretly brings us joy. We sense that precarious boiling point when joy too-quickly becomes nostalgia. We know joy can sometimes be unhealthy because we've been burned by it too often.

We know what a single sprinkle tastes like, what it's like to take a veggie patty between two napkins and squeeze out all the excess oil. We know which stairs creek at night -- which ones to avoid when foresting in the freezer.

We know what it's like for a girl to look us up and down on our first day of junior year in high school, when everyone's hugging and squealing in the background, and tell us to go eat a sandwich.

We know how many carbohydrates are in a piece of Breadsmith whole wheat bread. We also know we've already used our daily carb allowance on Fiber One Originals.

Fiber One brownies are not brownies, they're imposters. We've also forgotten what brownies taste like.

We know what it's like to forget our favorite food. We remember when "food" used to not be a "touchy" subject in the house.

We know what discomfort looks like in our best friend's eyes. We know that pulled smile that isn't so much a smile, but a face-tug, when they have nothing to say and they don't have to.

We know what it's like to ask waiters lots and lots of questions, and to disqualify 40 entree options instantly by the terms "saucy," "fried," "smothered," or "cheesy." We've memorized the lines "I'm not so hungry" when we return the menu to the waiter, and know to expect that look from friends.

We know what it's like to disappoint.

We know what it's like to buy more batteries for the green scale in the bathroom. We know what it's like to buy more than one pack at a time.

We know what it's like to have a bony pelvis peek out above your jeans -- the sexy stuff Abercrombie and Fitch uses to sell sweatshirts on shopping bags. We know what it's like to think you're hot shit and to think others think you're hot shit.

We know what it's like to scream in pillows. We know the sticky feeling when we shower in tears, when hair sticks to the front of the chin as we decide to get up and become a person again.

We know what it's like to fall in love. We know what it's like to gain 30 pounds and eat ice cream cake at 2 a.m. while being the happiest we've ever been. Still, we know what it's like to think his legs are nicer than yours.

We know what it's like to fill up a bra and say, "okay, maybe this isn't all that bad." We know what it's like to discover that jeans actually look better, for cheeks to glow instead of sucked sallow. We know what it's like to go weeks without makeup, to feel raw and real and released.

We know what it's like to share our stories again and again so that others won't make the same mistakes, so that others know they're not alone.

We know what it's like to have popcorn nights and pillow fights, to hike all day without feeling weak-kneed and feel like we've conquered the world.

We know what it's like to slip, and what it's like to stand back up, and what it's like to fall in love, and what it's like for love to fall in you.

We know what it's like to try to be superwoman, when really, we already are.

Sincerely,
#WeWearPurple

**This post was inspired by a good friend and fellow ED survivor, Kayla Rosen. Her vulnerability and authenticity to share her story of struggle and Herculean triumph is, without a doubt, impressive.

Looking for help?

Clinicians at Jewish Child & Family Services' Counseling Centers work with both adults and teens on eating issues. In addition, Response, the teen center at JCFS, also offers programs to schools and synagogues that focus on the most common forms of eating disorders (anorexia, bulimia, and binge eating) and provide a safe environment for teens to explore the reality of these serious illnesses and ways to build their self-confidence. For more information and to make an appointment, contact a JCFS counselor at 855-275-5237. For information about programs through Response, call 847-676-0078 or visit responsecenter.org.

2016-02-23
]]>Five Cubs Storylines Heading into Spring Training 2016http://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27527&blogid=142
What curse? The 2016 Chicago Cubs have no idea what you're referring to. When Steve Bartman reached for that infamous foul ball, Kyle Schwarber was 10 years old. Addison Russell was 9. When the black cat ran across the field in 1969, Cubs' manager Joe Maddon was 15. And nobody around the organization was around for the curse of the Billy Goat.]]>Lindsey_22016-02-22T16:36:37ZEric Burgher

What curse? The 2016 Chicago Cubs have no idea what you're referring to. When Steve Bartman reached for that infamous foul ball, Kyle Schwarber was 10 years old. Addison Russell was 9. When the black cat ran across the field in 1969, Cubs' manager Joe Maddon was 15. And nobody around the organization was around for the curse of the Billy Goat.

Fans on the north side of Chicago are all too familiar with the dark history of their beloved Cubbies, but bring up any talk of a curse around this current team and you won't get so much as a raised eyebrow. This is a new team, a new regime and a fresh start for one of the two original National League franchises.

These are not the "Lovable Losers" anymore, as they enter the 2016 season with perhaps the largest target they've had on their backs since '84 or '69. And it's probably even bigger.

The Cubs are legitimate contenders this season; the pick of many to represent the NL in the World Series. Ever since the organization hired boy genius Theo Epstein in 2011, the team has improved every season, but nobody quite expected the jump they made last year.

In Epstein's first season the Cubs finished 61-101. The next year they finished 66-96. In 2014 they improved by seven games in the win column to 73-89. And last season the Cubs finished the year 97-65 and made it all the way to the NLCS.

When Epstein came aboard he drew out a six, perhaps seven-year rebuilding plan with a focus on big picture. But as they enter year five, the Cubs are looking like the perennial October team we all dreamed of but few realistically envisioned in his introductory press conference.

Spring is right around the corner and for the first time in a long time the change in weather might not be the thing Chicago residents are most excited about. There is a change happening in the entire sports culture of this city, and if results can match expectations, Chicago will see a celebration unlike anything the nation has ever seen before.

But we're getting ahead of ourselves. It is a long season and a lot can happen. So let's just start with the big storylines to watch as the Cubs begin spring training next week.

Innings for the starters

It became apparent in the playoffs last year that the Cubs' starting rotation was only formidable for about two and a half games each series. Management did something about that in the off-season by bringing in John Lackey, but their lack of depth also cost them because of the physical toll it took on Cy Young winner Jack Arrieta and last year's big acquisition, Jon Lester. Arrieta had a career year but also pitched 229 innings, second most in the NL. Lester pitched 205 and Lackey pitched 218 as a member of the Cardinals. These are veteran players and those are a lot of innings.

When the playoffs hit we saw a noticeable drop in Arrieta's game, due in part to the amount of innings he had put in including the playoffs. His four complete games were tied for the most in the league and his 3,438 total pitches thrown were the most thrown by anyone in the NL.

This year with Lackey bringing depth to the rotation and the Cubs' sights set on the playoffs, Maddon will have to manage the innings of his veteran starters early in the year, perhaps allowing for extra days off for them and innings limits early in the season. Of course try telling that to Maddon while Arrieta is in the midst of an 8-inning shut-out, but it's a good problem to have.

Who will be the fifth starter?

The top four spots in the Cubs' starting rotation seem set with Arietta, Lester, Lackey and Jason Hammel. But the fifth starter spot will likely be fluid and something to keep an eye on throughout spring games and early in the season.

Kyle Hendricks appears to be the favorite to start the year given his spot in the rotation last season. The 26-year-old isn't flashy, but he has really good stuff when it is accurate. Hendricks struggled last season, however, especially in the playoffs, and the Cubs will really need a reliable fifth starter in order to help keep days off consistent for the other four guys.

Trevor Cahill and Adam Warren will also be given a look in that spot. In 11 games with the Cubs, Cahill went 1-0 with a 2.12 ERA. He pitched really well in long relief out of the bullpen where he would be valuable for Maddon again, but if Hendricks struggles or there is an injury to someone else in the rotation, Cahill may be the next man up.

Warren came over from the New York Yankees in the Starlin Castro trade and will most likely stay in the bullpen, but he may be someone worth looking at for a spot start from time to time. He has a career 3.39 ERA and started 17 games last year for the Yankees.

While it is possible the Cubs could still make a move mid-season to help fill out their starting rotation, you'll likely see a good amount of musical chairs from Maddon as he experiments with different guys in that fifth spot.

Development of the youngsters

The Cubs farm is growing them faster than they can bring them up and that is another good problem to have. Last season we saw Kris Bryant and Jorge Soler as expected, but Russell and Schwarber getting called up early was a bit of a surprise. But no matter how and when they made it up, they did everything they could to set the bar extremely high for themselves coming into this year. Rookie of the Year Bryant hit .274 with 26 HR and 99 RBI. Schwarber hit 16 home runs in only 69 games and Russell hit .242 and was one of the team's best defensive players before an injury kept him out of the NLCS.

Then there's the playoff run Soler had. In seven post-season games, Soler hit .474 with a .600 OBP and three home runs in 19 AB. Javier Baez saw a nice post-season bump as well, hitting .333 in place of the injured Russell.

Now with a full season and post-season experience under their belts, there will be a lot of pressure on this young core to take the next step alongside veterans Anthony Rizzo, Jason Heyward, Ben Zobrist and Miguel Montero. If these guys can continue to develop at anywhere near the pace they did last season, the Cubs are going to have one of the most formidable lineups in baseball.

The one outlier perhaps is Baez, who has struggled moving back and forth between the Minors and Majors last year. He is an incredible talent defensively with a lot of power behind the plate, but he strikes out a lot and could become a liability in a lineup built on high pitch counts and on-base percentage.

Sure there will be slumps and steps backward -- most of this group is under 25 years old -- but they play with a poise and maturity rarely seen with this many young players on one team.

Who will bat lead-off?

This is definitely the most intriguing question in the Cubs' lineup entering the season. Last year the Cubs were fourth in the NL in On-Base Percentage (.344) from the lead-off spot. Dexter Fowler saw the most at-bats at the top of the order, but with Fowler gone there are a couple of different ways the Cubs can go.

The Cubs acquired Heyward and Zobrist, both fully capable of jumpstarting your order. Zobrist is a switch hitter and Heyward bats from the left side. Heyward is a career .268 hitter with a .353 OBP. At 34 years old, Zobrist has almost identical career numbers with a .265 average and .355 OBP. Given Maddon's tendency to be aggressive on the base-paths, he may go with Heyward more often, who is more of a threat to steal a base, but both guys will likely see time at the top of the order this spring.

Some of this will also depend on how well the youngsters play. If Baez's struggles continue heading into the season, Zobrist will likely be an everyday second baseman and a sure thing at or near the top of the batting order. However, if Baez plays well, he could give Heyward days off in center field as well, based on what we're hearing. So the two could form a platoon in that leadoff spot for most of the year until Maddon decides to set a lineup heading into the post-season. Either way, expect to see a lot of experimentation with the lineup this spring and even into the first couple months of the season.

Embrace the target

Gone are the days of the Cubs taking opponents by surprise. As deep and talented as they are, they are no longer full of "unknowns." Everybody will be on everyone's scouting report from day one. Pitchers will have a much better idea how to keep pitches to Schwarber off the rooftops. The core players have continued to develop their A-game, but this year everyone will be bringing their A-game when the Cubs come to town. And how does Maddon plan to approach the added pressure?

Maddon stresses never taking anything for granted or becoming complacent, and if the Cubs have a hard time keeping themselves humble, you know their opponents will be doing everything possible to bring them down.

"Embrace the target" has become the mantra for the 2016 season, yet another t-shirt worthy phrase out of the mouth of their eclectic, fearless leader. But it isn't just the target on their own backs they should be working to embrace. It is the ultimate target ahead of them as well -- the World Series.

2016-02-22
]]>Indiana Jones and the Staff of Moseshttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27523&blogid=142
Raiders of the Lost Ark, in which Indiana Jones went after the Ark of the Covenant, currently has an
8.5 on imdb.com. It's the highest rating of any film in the franchise, with
The Last Crusade
-- in which Indy pursued the Holy Grail -- at an
8.3. The other two films don't rate anywhere near that high.]]>Lindsey_22016-02-19T15:19:04ZWhy Indy should pursue the Biblical artifact in his next adventurePaul Wieder

Raiders of the Lost Ark, in which Indiana Jones went after the Ark of the Covenant, currently has an
8.5 on imdb.com. It's the highest rating of any film in the franchise, with
The Last Crusade
-- in which Indy pursued the Holy Grail -- at an
8.3. The other two films don't rate anywhere near that high.

So the message is clear: Indy needs to go after something Biblical. Nothing else has that kind of emotional impact. Only, what's left for him to look for?

Moses' staff started off as a simple shepherd's crook, but went on to become the basis for every sorcerer's staff or fairy's wand that followed. Seriously, why else is a stick the symbol of magic? Why not a glove, or a kerchief, or a gemstone? Because Moses invented the magic wand.

The Blue Fairy, the Fairy Godmother and Tinkerbell … Gandalf, Dumbledore and Jafar… from Hermes and Circe of myth to the magician at a 5-year-old's birthday, each has a wand or staff of some sort. (As for Hermes' snake-entwined staff becoming the symbol of doctors and healing, that's also Biblical in origin; see
Num. 21:8-9).

Now, Moses's staff has three main powers. One is its command over water. We read about it turning the entire Nile to blood (Ex. 7:19-20), splitting a sea (Ex. 14:21), and drawing water out of a boulder (in both
Exodus
and
Numbers).

Another power relates to its control over simpler animals. In the second and third plagues, it calls forth infestations of frogs (Ex. 8:1-2) and lice (Ex. 8:13). Even its very first miracle is to turn itself into a snake (Ex. 5:2-4); it repeats this transformation in Pharaoh's court and devours his magicians' snake-staffs as well (Ex. 7:10-12).

In fact, this could be a major plot point when Indy finds Moses' staff. Why? Indy is
famouslyterrified of
snakes! He would have to overcome his fear in order to retrieve the artifact.

The last power of the staff would be why the Nazis want it (it's always the Nazis). In one battle retold in the Torah, the Israelites win as long as Moses holds the staff aloft (Ex 17: 9-13). Of course the Nazis would crave an object that helps them win wars with ease.

So, Mr. Steven Spielberg, I think you see the cinematic possibilities of the Staff of Moses for the next
Indiana Jones
film. Imagery-wise, we're talking about water effects, swarms of small creatures, and an epic battle. But this time, the object of the quest goes right at the heart of Indy's character, because it's both what Indy wants -- and fears -- most. How epic is that?

The other object in the Torah that would be worthy of an adventure is the
Urim V'Tumim, the High Priest's gem-studded breastplate that could foretell the future and reveal secrets. But that's harder to explain … we can save that for the sixth movie.

2016-02-19
]]>5 Things I Wish I Knew Before I Became Pregnanthttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27519&blogid=142
A few months ago I did something totally crazy -- I created a human! A tiny, beautiful, miraculous human. Well, I guess I had a little help from my husband, but I did most of the heavy lifting (pun intended).]]>Lindsey_22016-02-18T15:55:51ZStefanie Pervos Bregman

A few months ago I did something totally crazy -- I created a human! A tiny, beautiful, miraculous human. Well, I guess I had a little help from my husband, but I did most of the heavy lifting (pun intended).

And while, amazingly, I am not the first and only person to accomplish this ridiculously incredible feat, I know I will not be the last. So I thought I'd share what I learned throughout my pregnancy -- things I wish I'd known before starting out on this crazy journey.

1. People will say the weirdest stuff to you -- don't let it get to you.

People will tell you that you're carrying big. "Yes, I'm sure there's just one in there," you will tell them. They will tell you for sure you're carrying like it's a girl, even though you have the ultrasound pictures to prove it's a boy. They will tell you horrific labor stories that you can't unhear. One day, when I was about 8 months pregnant, I was walking out of Starbucks and this woman just pointed at me and said, "You're pregnant!" and kept walking. No shit, Sherlock.

The thing is, people will also be pretty nice to you and treat you like some kind of super human (which you are). They will hold doors for you, help you carry things, and occasionally they will give up their seat on the train for you -- but not always. Well-meaning strangers will smile at you, ask you when you're due, offer words of advice, wish you well, and warmly welcome you into the club of parenthood. You will totally do the same annoying thing the minute you become a parent.

2016-02-18
]]>The Grocery Shopper’s Dilemma—why buy organic?http://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27515&blogid=142
I know that organic food uses less pesticide, no synthetic pesticides, and no antibiotics -- but are those reasons enough to buy organic?]]>Lindsey_22016-02-17T14:40:55ZRon Krit

"I read three papers a day and watch the news constantly, I would know if there's something to organic food." That's what my dad said while we were discussing the merits of organic food. I know that organic food uses less pesticide, no synthetic pesticides, and no antibiotics -- but are those reasons enough to buy organic?

I buy a few things organic and I was starting to wonder, was my dad right? The main things I buy organic are the dirty dozen, which you can find on a list the
EWG
puts out each year. They also list the clean 15, which are generally foods with thick skin that you do not eat, like avocados.

There are a ton of articles on the topic, but who to trust? Monsanto, the largest manufacturer of seeds and pesticides, pays universities to conduct studies on many things, like safety of pesticides. On the other side of the spectrum are organic advocates that also conduct studies. So, who do you believe?

I did a lot of research and reading on the subject, but for further clarification I spoke with Robin Levy Brown, a friend and nutritionist who works for the Midwest Dairy Council and previously worked for the Chicago Public School systems. Like many articles I read, she said ideally buying local is best. It's the freshest food and travels the least amount of miles to get to you, so it's also environmentally friendly.

I also asked Robin about meat. A lot of articles I came across, like
this one, talk about buying organic meat because 80% of all medicine in the US is given to livestock, and that might be the reason drugs are less effective on people. According to Robin, dairy cows given drugs are taken off the lot until they are tested and there is no sign of drugs in their system. Organic farms have to sell an animal when it gets sick. The Natural Resources Defense Council (NRDC) says that farms are using drugs to make their animals gain weight faster (and in the case of dairy, produce more milk), and they are working to get the FDA to close loopholes allowing this practice to happen.

If you have been in a store lately you might have seen, rBST free meat and dairy available. rBST is a drug Monsanto produced to help cows grow faster, it's basically a synthetic growth hormone. Food labeled rBST free is not necessarily organic but it is free of growth hormones. Robin did calm my fears when she said rBST has no effect on the human body. It is not recognized by the human body and is completely destroyed by our digestive tracts.

Getting back to vegetables, do we need to spend the extra money on organics? Having fewer pesticides is good for the soil and in theory better for consumption. Of course organic farms still use pesticides and fungicide but they have to be natural (which may or may not be safer -- for a closer look checkout this article in
Scientific American).

Are you confused? Have you come to your own conclusion? After reading way more than I had anticipated -- and since I'm not an expert -- I have come to the personal decision to do the following:

2016-02-17
]]>Having each other’s backshttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27501&blogid=142
On a recent snowy Chicago Friday night, I attended a pop-up Shabbat dinner in the Uptown neighborhood of Chicago, where the menu, prepared by a gourmet Jewish chef, featured a modern twist on traditional Jewish food -- matzah ball soup, butternut squash cholent, pastrami, and of course challah and wine.]]>Lindsey_22016-02-15T14:23:39ZCindy Sher

On a recent snowy Chicago Friday night, I attended a pop-up Shabbat dinner in the Uptown neighborhood of Chicago, where the menu, prepared by a gourmet Jewish chef, featured a modern twist on traditional Jewish food -- matzah ball soup, butternut squash cholent, pastrami, and of course challah and wine. The dinner was sponsored by OneTable, a nonprofit Shabbat initiative that started in New York and has recently expanded to Chicago to bring the Shabbat table to Jewish 20- and 30-somethings in a fresh way.

As delicious as the pastrami and wine were, we were there as much for the connection with one another as we were for the food.

People crave connection; it makes us human. Philosophers and scientists agree that the largest indicator of happiness is building strong relationships of all kinds with other people. And as Jews in America, particularly in Chicago, one of the strongest Jewish communities in the country, we're blessed with the resources and tools to make forging connections easier.

You could say, we in the Jewish community of this "city of big shoulders" have each other's backs.

We're members of a tribe that connect to each other in so many ways. We connect through our grandparents and great-grandparents having survived the pogroms of Russia or the horrors of the Holocaust. We connect through a love of Israel and our shared favorite haunts on Ben Yehuda street. We connect with pride when we see a Jewish person triumph, but at the same time, we connect with horror when we see an infamous Jew, like a Madoff, commit shame. We connect through our skill at breaking into the same Jewish camp song in unison at any moment in time. We connect through knowing that almost from birth we're taught it's how we treat each other that counts -- at that all the rest is commentary. And we connect through sharing our family kugel recipes; your grandma made hers with raisins, and mine used currants.

Our people connect through so many of the joys of life -- Torah, family, love, Shabbat, holidays, comedy, food, and even dance. My mom has always been an enthusiast for the "
hora," the circle dance performed during Jewish celebrations, which physically connects us to each other as we link arms in celebration. In fact, Mom has always implored me never to sit out a hora at a wedding because we have to embrace the joy wherever we can find it. (She's a wise one, that Jewish mom of mine.)

But we as a people know all too well that connection isn't just about simcha. As I get older, I not only see more blessings, but I, unfortunately, witness more sadness too. In fact, I know now that none of us are immune to tsuris. But when we do experience hardship, it's comforting to know that we're part of a community that doesn't let us suffer alone.

Over the years, each time one of our friends goes through pain, I watch our Jewish network mobilize to help the struggling friend find the hope, the light, the inspiration, and resilience that eventually can transcend the tragedy.

A minyan -- a quorum of 10 people -- is often required for certain Jewish observances. It seems like the
minyan
concept extends in other parts of Jewish life as well as we watch so many members of a community support each other in times of trouble.

I hope your days are filled with blessings, but it's comforting to know that when life wounds us, we're part of a community that's there to help us heal and light the way through the darkness.

2016-02-15
]]>The Single One in the Brunchhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27497&blogid=142
For my friends -- and most 30-something women -- brunch is a ritual. Plans are made weeks in advance, restaurant recommendations are vetted and you know to block out two hours or more in order to properly catch up on the status of everyone’s busy lives.]]>Lindsey_22016-02-11T13:37:44ZFeeling out of place among my closest friendsJennifer Rottner

For my friends -- and most 30-something women -- brunch is a ritual. Plans are made weeks in advance, restaurant recommendations are vetted and you know to block out two hours or more in order to properly catch up on the status of everyone's busy lives.

This past Sunday we celebrated one girlfriend's engagement, got the details about another's three-week honeymoon in Thailand and heard the latest in the never-ending parenting adventures of my two other girlfriends and their kids. (There are five between the two of them.)

As for me? I filled everyone in on the new dating apps I downloaded over the weekend.

The brunch group

In my 30s and newly single after ending a long-term relationship, I recently found myself navigating unchartered territory with my best friends. These are girls I have known for years, who are like sisters to me and have been there for me through the best and also worst moments in my life. How was it that I suddenly felt like I didn't fit in? There was a time when text messages between my girlfriends and I centered on what bar we were going to that night, the drunken texts we had mistakenly sent to that ex-boyfriend, or who had the worst hangover. These days, our texts read a bit more like the "Real Housewives of Chicago."

After we ordered cocktails, the conversation immediately turned to my girlfriend's recent engagement. We heard all about the proposal, learned about the venue she had just booked and were informed that she would not be having bridesmaids (phew). My other married girlfriends chimed in to give advice or recommendations for hair, make-up, wedding planners and everything in between. Meanwhile, I quietly sipped water from one of the pink-striped straws with a cut-out diamond on it that someone brought to brunch as a party favor.

Truthfully, all the wedding talk had me feeling a bit anxious. I was incredibly happy for my newly engaged and recently married friends, but being two months out of a relationship, I felt slightly discouraged. I was starting back at square one -- they were settling into the rest of their lives.

Friendships change when your friends get engaged or married, and it doesn't make it any less difficult to adjust when you're the only single gal in the group. You're busy swiping left or right while they are busy wiping their kids up and down -- or tracking down a Lanvin dress for their wedding. How can they possibly relate to the bad date you just went on while they are planning Disney World vacations with their husband and kids?

Meanwhile, your calendar fills to the brim with engagement parties, wedding showers, and children's birthdays that the best excuse in the world couldn't get you out of, yet when you try and plan a night out to celebrate your recent single status, no one can find babysitters, dinner reservations at Next can't be rescheduled and staying out past 10 p.m. is a thing of the past.

After wedding-planning discussion, ogling my girlfriends' engagement ring and hearing hilarious mommy-disasters, I did, however, find that my "single girl" stories were their own source of entertainment for the group. I talked about my solo post-breakup trip to New York City to see friends, shop and have some much-needed fun, and they couldn't have been more encouraging when I mentioned the date I had gone on with a very cute, successful guy I had met through one of my numerous dating apps. They also didn't fail to mention that they never liked my recent ex and were very happy I had moved on.

It was then I realized that although I was in a totally different place in my life than my friends, it didn't stop them from caring about me. They might not be clued in to the newest dating app nor I to the latest Disney phenomenon, but true friendship never changes. At times, it can be challenging to accept all those differences, but that doesn't mean you are inadequate or don't fit in with your friends anymore -- your journey might just be a little different than theirs. If you are lucky enough to have great friends (as I certainly do), it shouldn't matter if you are single, married or divorced -- your friends will love and support you no matter what.

Most importantly, they'll be there when you dust yourself off and get yourself back out there to find your Prince Charming -- or at least someone who won't make you split the check on the first date.

Jennifer Rottner is 34, lives in Old Town and works in Communications for the City of Chicago. She hates cilantro, loves Dateline and would love to meet a nice Jewish boy.

2016-02-11
]]>My Religious High-Wire Acthttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27490&blogid=142
I’ll never forget my first Shabbat at home after spending five months in Jerusalem studying Judaism at the Pardes Institute. I had spent my entire life in the northern suburb of Deerfield before going away to college, yet I came back feeling like a stranger in my home town.]]>Lindsey_22016-02-10T13:53:38ZKeeping my balance as a Jewish single since becoming more observantAdam J. Miller

I'll never forget my first Shabbat at home after spending five months in Jerusalem studying Judaism at the Pardes Institute. I had spent my entire life in the northern suburb of Deerfield before going away to college, yet I came back feeling like a stranger in my home town.

I picked a synagogue within walking distance of my house, one with a parking lot full of cars and a microphone on the
bimah
(stage). These things never fazed me the last 22 years of my existence, but they weren't what I had been used to in Jerusalem. There was a big difference walking past buildings made of golden Jerusalem stone to get to shul each week, compared to navigating around Lexuses and Land Rovers.

Clearly I was not prepared for just how difficult my first Shabbat as an observant Jew would be.

I wore my tallit out of the synagogue one humid summer afternoon and walked down the shoulder of a major road. Instead of the typical "Shabbat shalom" greeting I'd get walking the streets in Jerusalem, drivers pointed and stared at me with looks of confusion and amusement as they drove by. The whole walk back I wondered what the hell I was thinking when I made this permanent change in my life.

A family visit during my time living in Jerusalem

When I was getting ready to leave Israel, a friend suggested I pick up Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik's
Lonely Man of Faith, a book about the struggle that comes with trying to be a spiritual person in a physical society. Needless to say, the book has been apropos of the last five years of my life, and today that struggle includes not only my relationship with myself, but also those around me.

When you're studying in Israel, you spend your day learning about the laws and customs and reading commentaries on the Torah until you feel like your eyes will fall out. It results in an infatuation with what you're learning, and as part of that natural progression, you often become more religious. But that didn't prepare me for what I would call the "wear and tear" of my observance.

On a spiritual level, there were many times when my life in Chicago's Jewish community felt like my walks to and from the synagogue in Deerfield -- lonely and full of doubt.

At first, I thought I could gracefully say goodbye to Chipotle veggie bowls, pray on a daily basis and wear a
kippah
at all times. And there were times I could. But over the years, the sailing of observance has proven anything but smooth.

There is no law in Jewish texts, for example, explaining what to do when your company orders lunch for the office every day and the only kosher option available has lousy service. Nor does it tell you what to do when asked why you can't break Shabbat, no matter what it is you're missing out on. I wasn't prepared for attracting unwanted attention, or offending those who matter most to me, so I punted on the aspects of Judaism that I knew I'd want to take on eventually, but couldn't presently do on my own. Instead of working on my growth, my priorities shifted to doing what was convenient and keeping my ambition under wraps.

A lot of this had to do with the reality I faced in terms of dating. The already small Jewish dating pool was even smaller now. Despite moving into the city to be part of a more religious community and improve my odds, it felt like within a few months I had I met every single
Shomer Shabbat
Jewish girl in Lakeview. When I started to put myself out there, the "non-negotiables" I promised to look for on dates suddenly became flexible.

Worse, I often had to defend myself for believing what I believe. When out on a date or meeting someone new, I often said I went to dinner at a friend's on Friday night and hung out with friends on Saturday, instead of just mentioning Shabbat. Although it was an accurate description, it felt inauthentic to the meaning behind what I was doing. Spending Shabbat afternoon eating lunch, playing board games and going on walks is more meaningful than just hanging out. It's immersing yourself in an entire community for 25 hours in a shared spiritual experience that is incomparable to anything else.

And now I find myself in New York, a city where I can practice however I want without feeling guilty about it, or lonely.

I have been here just a couple short months, but there's already been a big difference. When my company learned about my Shabbat observance, the CEO followed up and asked me about my level of
kashrut
so that the company could accommodate me during company meals. I've never heard such a nuanced question from a non-Jewish person I've worked for. Overall, non-Jews have a better understanding of Judaism in New York than Chicago, but it wasn't until I saw this for myself that I fully realized the difference.

You would think this would make the transition to taking the next step easy, but it's not. While physically I live in New York, in my mind, I'm still in Chicago. Five years of a certain feeling or experience do not go away just because you change your home address.

It took me about a month before I was fully able to utter the phrase
Shomer Shabbat, even to other people who are equally or more religious than me -- even in New York. While it's technically easier to be religious here, a part of me still feels tepid about it. The line I walk might no longer from the high wire-act I used to perform, but the muscle memory from that act is still there. Over time, I hope it is easier to balance.

2016-02-10
]]>Set Up By Grandpahttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27486&blogid=142
Every few weeks, I go with my grandfather to visit his best friend. We see each other every other week; sometimes he treats me to dinner at Taboun in Skokie, and other times I visit him at home. But my favorite visits take place at Irving’s retirement home.]]>Lindsey_22016-02-09T13:43:36ZBecause it's more romantic than by a computer, right?Danielle Bohrer

Every few weeks, I go with my grandfather to visit his best friend. We see each other every other week; sometimes he treats me to dinner at Taboun in Skokie, and other times I visit him at home. But my favorite visits take place at Irving's retirement home.

At 95 years old, my grandfather spends much of his time at home, except for the three or more times a week that he and my grandmother go to visit Irving. My grandfather and Irving exchange newspapers in big piles that I swear neither of them reads. In fact, I'm pretty sure they've been passing the same papers back and forth for years. Sometimes they argue over politics, and other times they binge-watch Fox News. When I come along, it's not uncommon for me to ask Irving a question only to have my grandfather spout the answer for him (or vice-versa). Despite the fact that both of them seem to be losing their hearing, they never have trouble hearing what the other is saying.

I laugh and tease back. "I thought you were going to find me someone, Grandpa," I say.

For the next 10 minutes, I absentmindedly leaf through the piles of ignored papers while my grandfather threatens to start taking out advertisements in local Jewish newspapers to find my
beshert. Then someone, usually my grandmother, gracefully manages to change the subject, and Irving and my grandfather retreat into their comfortable silence.

That's usually how it goes, except for this one time, when a few days after our visit, I got a text from from my grandmother, who -- at my grandfather's request -- sent an email to a friend asking if she knew of a potential match for me.

Apparently, my lack of a love life at the old age of 27 was such cause for concern that my grandfather felt he needed to intervene. I was torn between sighing and laughing.

To be fair, it's not like my attempts at dating on my own have produced stellar results. My close-knit group of friends makes it difficult to meet anyone new, and my attempts at online dating resulted in dates with men such as the one who was only using dating sites as a tool to find a job. I suppose I could use all the help I can get, so what was wrong with being set up by my grandfather?

In past generations, it was commonplace for relatives to introduce young Jews. And in a way, it felt more romantic in my mind to be able to say my future partner and I were matched by relatives instead of a computer.

So after the original humiliation waned, I was weirdly excited about the idea. I
wanted
to be set up by my grandfather.

Judaism speaks to me through traditions. I didn't grow up in a kosher home or go to synagogue every Shabbat, but the memories that revolve around Jewish customs -- throwing plastic bugs at the Passover Seder, or watching my 85-year-old grandmother become a bat mitzvah -- those are some of my favorites. Only recently did I become interested in learning more about the Jewish values and history behind the traditions I adore. I'm slowly starting to bring more of these practices into my daily life, so it felt fitting that I take a path to finding a life partner with more traditional roots.

I didn't hear back from my grandparents for a couple months, so I tried my hand at online dating again. After one eventful date with a gentleman who thought it appropriate to spew racist and obscene jokes the entire time, I pretty much resigned myself to being a spinster.

Then one day I received a call from an unknown number. I promptly let it go to voicemail, of course, but it turns it was from a nice young Jewish man, Alex, whose aunt was friends with my grandfather's friend, the one my grandmother had emailed. He was interested in meeting me.

I spent a good day trying to decide if I should call him back. After all, he must be a bit odd if he was willing to be set up on a blind date by a relative. Then again, so was I.

I boldly called Alex back (after spending a long time trying to plan out what I would say). Our phone conversation was quick and casual. He claimed to know of the best local sushi place, and intrigued by such a bold statement about one of my favorite foods, we made a date for later that week.

The afternoon of our date, I ran home from work and felt butterflies as I tried to decide what was appropriate to wear on a blind date set up by my grandfather. I decided on an outfit I felt comfortable and confident wearing. I felt good. Instead of my usual anxious nerves, I experienced more of a joyful nervous feeling.

Alex met me at the door to the restaurant. My first impression was relief; he was reasonably dressed, taller than me and fairly attractive with strong bone structure and dark hair, on top of which he kept a well-worn
kippah. It was actually refreshing to see -- it suggested a comfort and pride in his religion, which I appreciated. So far, so good, Grandpa.

Figuring out what sushi to order made for an easy conversation starter, and while I usually stick to the rolls that have ingredients I can pronounce, Alex was a bit more knowledgeable and able to recommend some nigiri to go with my standard roll.

The food arrived on long, elegant rectangular trays. In between bites of salmon-topped California rolls and tuna-covered spicy vegetable rolls, I learned that we both enjoyed books that have elements of fantasy and science-fiction. I also learned he was a creative professional, but when I asked his career and plans, he became a bit distant.

Alex said his family frowned upon his current profession. He explained that he went to an Orthodox Jewish day school growing up where he felt his talents in the arts were stifled, and where men were discouraged from creative pursuits.

I tried to interject, my hand fiddling idly with the paper used to wrap napkins, but he was talking so passionately that I felt compelled to listen. He then concluded that all this had disenchanted him with Jewish culture.

Having grown up in a community that valued and supported all art forms (and all genders in the arts), I couldn't imagine how difficult this must have been. I was upset for him.

Then Alex navigated his feelings into a conversation around non-traditional gender roles in comics and film, and halfway through my nigiri, I realized I hadn't spoken more than a word at a time since we had ordered. I tried to chip in during one of his lectures about a movie series, but I got maybe four words in before my comments were refuted and forgotten.

After some perfect mango mochi, Alex walked me to my car and we made tentative plans to meet again, but our date left me kind of stunned. I wish I had gotten the chance to really introduce myself.

For days I played it all over in my head. Did he really talk so much or was I just exaggerating it in my mind? I talk a lot when I'm nervous, so that's what he's doing? I should give him another chance.

But I didn't. Not because of his relentless chatter, but because our lives seemed to be in very different stages. Alex was looking into possible new careers; I was just settling into my job of choice. I was just starting to feel the attraction of Jewish culture and tradition; he was pushing it away.

Harder than making that decision, however, would be telling my grandpa that all of his hard work and effort didn't pay off. Standing in his kitchen as my grandmother made us matzah brie, I told him about the date he had set up. Halfway into the story, my grandpa interrupted. "Wait a while," he said. "I have to put my ears in -- I can't hear what we are talking about."

After I told the whole story again, he smiled. "Oh well, there are still hundreds of grandparents at the nursing home; I'm sure one of them has a good match for my granddaughter. I'll keep asking."

Perhaps my grandfather's scheme didn't pan out (at least not yet -- I did get a new email from my grandmother just last week … ), but he did help me realize something extremely important. I do want a future life-partner with whom I can explore our Jewish identities. And more than that, I want my
beshert
to be someone like, well, Irving -- someone I can sit in a room with, week after week, whether in conversation or in complete silence, and never tire of their company.

Danielle Borher is young Jewish woman in Chicago juggling a career in healthcare while exploring her Jewish identity. When not being set up on blind dates by her grandfather, she occupies her single-dom by performing on stage, taking long walks with her crazy dog, Kayla, and competing in Karate.

2016-02-09
]]>30 and Widowed in Chicagohttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27479&blogid=142
The day after I
finished sitting shiva for Nathan, I told my boss that I wanted to move back to
Chicago.]]>Lindsey_22016-02-08T12:45:24ZStarting over in the city where we were supposed to spend the rest of our livesIlana Orlofsky

Once upon a time, I was lucky in love.

Nathan and I hit it off at his 20th birthday party at Washington University in St. Louis. We became fast friends between the kisses, parties and laughs.

Several months after we started dating, I joined his intermural Ultimate Frisbee team and sprained my ankle colliding with a teammate. After the game, Nathan helped me up the stairs to my apartment and fetched me an ice pack. It was the first time someone wanted to take care of me -- and make out with me. Isn't that all anyone ever wants?

Throughout the next several years, Nathan helped me understand sports and politics. He was brilliant, humble and hilarious. He could kick most people's butts in racquetball. He loved to travel and explore restaurants with me. Somehow I had found an amazing man -- I always told him how lucky we were.

It wasn't all peaches and sparkles all the time, though. After our first year of dating, we did the long distance thing when I took a job in Indiana and he had a year left of school. When it was over, I didn't hesitate to join him in Milwaukee as he began medical school. Three years later, my job ran out of funding, but I got an offer in Chicago -- the city where Nathan was hoping to match for his residency; the city where we were both born and had family. Doing long distance again after more than four years together was not ideal, but we knew it would be temporary.

Then came Match Day, and Nathan matched in Milwaukee. He was upset. He was looking forward to a change of scenery, and he wouldn't get it for another few years at least. I cried about it, but knew it would be harder for both of us if we weren't together. Things were better for both of us when the other person was around.

A month later, Nathan proposed at the Trevi Fountain in Rome, the pinnacle to a wonderful, nearly two-week adventure. "Ilana, I love you. I want to do it all with you. Will you marry me?" It was the happiest day of my life until the day we got married.

I came back from our trip and started looking for jobs in Milwaukee again (while wedding planning), hoping to find something before my lease in Chicago ended. When I came up empty, I moved in with his parents in the suburbs to at least shorten the distance between Milwaukee and Chicago. By December, I quit my job and moved back to Milwaukee without anything lined up. Again. For him -- for us. We were married in May.

Ilana and Nathan on their wedding day.

It was just a year ago January that I remember sharing with Nathan some amusing anecdote about a colleague's dating misadventures. We both chuckled, glad that we didn't have to date as adults. I told him it sounded hard, exhausting and frustrating. How lucky we were, nearly nine years after our first kiss, to only have to date each other.

And then, one month later, Nathan died unexpectedly. Needless to say, I didn't feel so lucky anymore. I was a widow at 29 years old.

The day after I finished sitting shiva for Nathan, I told my boss that I wanted to move back to Chicago. I felt a strong need to continue cultivating my relationship with my in-laws, and brothers-in-law. I spent the last nine Thanksgivings with them, including this past one, the first without Nathan. They were my family. I wanted access to a vibrant city, where I could run into old classmates at events or on the street. I needed to be in a city where people knew me before I was a part of "IlaNathan."

Of course, I also knew I needed to be in a city where there were other Jewish unmarried 20- and 30-somethings, people with whom I could learn, laugh, explore and hopefully -- one day -- love. In Milwaukee, my friends were almost entirely couples getting ready to start families; the Jewish life there was stifling and devoid of ample age-appropriate single, Jewish men.

For months and months after Nathan died, my heart wasn't open to letting another man in, yet my fingers were going through withdrawal without Nathan on the receiving end of my texts. Maybe I wasn't ready for love, but I needed something -- someone -- to fill this tremendous void, someone to check in on me, flirt with me, admire me, and, yes -- send me thoughtful emojis.

I asked other young widows what was appropriate. It turns out, there's no Emily Post to guide you through the dos and don'ts of widowhood. They said anything that made the days more manageable -- that made me feel less sad in the moment -- was the right thing to do. "You do you," is a common mantra among this peer group.

Regardless, friends were surprised when I went on my first first date in nearly a decade. Friends judged. Friends were in disbelief that I was moving forward, and that I was no longer part of the couple they had admired for so long.

Ilana (bottom right) with Nathan's brothers and their significant others.

I judged too. I too was in disbelief. On my second date, I left and cried the entire car ride home. Is this my new life? Going out with guys who live in apartments that smell like a locker room? Guys with makeshift coffee tables made out of plastic hampers, littered with papers and unidentifiable sticky substances everywhere? Guys who need convincing that an eight-hour first date is a bad idea? Having to explain to these guys what happened to the one I was with for nine years?

Apparently, this
is
my new life.

At first, I was upfront about being a widow. I included a line about it on my dating profiles. I didn't want to waste my time with someone who wasn't emotionally mature enough to handle my loss. But as time went on, I decided that wasn't fair. Most people don't include their dating history on their profile -- why should I?

Eventually, the "W" I felt emblazoned on my chest faded. My coping mechanism of choice has been to schedule myself stupid. I am determined to continue putting myself out there, to meet people who can introduce me to more people, to cast as wide of a net as possible.

So far, I have met people at happy hours, alumni events, Shabbat gatherings, speed-dating events, and a ton of other young professional programs. I smiled. I drank. And I told my story.

I joined a book club and told them about Nathan. I opened up to my colleagues about why I quit my last job and moved to Chicago. I'm sure I have made a lot of people uncomfortable -- but I'm not sure I care.

Ilana (right) at a Jewish young adult event.

And I've continued to date, mostly through the online dating platforms I never thought I'd have to use. And it is exhausting, frustrating and hard. I've been on maybe two or three dozen dates since Nathan died. I've cried after some, and harder after others.

But I'm opting to spend much of my time offline, because it only takes a few minutes of talking to someone to know if there's potential for romance, or to find out that they're younger than 26. Of course there isn't anything inherently wrong with being in your early or mid-20s, but I know in my heart of hearts that as a now 30-year-old widow who at one very recent point in time had baby names picked out with her husband, men of a certain (younger) age simply aren't going to get me.

The loneliness can be consuming, but I know I'm not alone in my quest to find another Jewish partner. I know I'm not even alone in knowing what I'm looking for, though I don't know that I'll be able to recognize it in a package that's not Nathan. I know there are others my age (and older) craving events that offer a better chance of developing more meaningful connections.

So I continue to look for my next
beshert, sometimes with a slightly jaded outlook after now being alone for a year -- sometimes with a more hopeful outlook when I meet someone inspiring, someone who makes me laugh and is able to teach me about something I wouldn't have otherwise known.

There's still so much I don't know, but one thing I do know is that as sad as I am and as unlucky as I feel, I'm lucky to have known Nathan. I only hope that one day, someone else feels as lucky to know me.

2016-02-08
]]>A Whale of a Truthhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27468&blogid=142
After taking my kids to a marine
mammal theme park in Florida, I was told I have to see the documentary Blackfish.]]>Lindsey_22016-02-05T10:13:26ZSeeking answers in the 'Blackfish' controversy.Joshua Marder

After taking my kids to pet the dolphins, kiss the sea lions and watch the killer whales at a marine mammal theme park in Florida, I was told I have to see the documentary
Blackfish.

For anyone unfamiliar with the film, it follows the history of three deaths associated with a captive killer whale named Tilikum, along with the history and context of other captive killer whales. It shows sailors (with big beards and tattoos) crying over how sad it was to take the baby whales (adult whales were too large to transport) from their families in the wild and the mother whales moaning as their babies are taken away from them. There are scenes of whales that have been "raked," or scraped by other whales' teeth, attributed to the animals' aggression due to the confinement of their tanks. It tells stories of these socially advanced marine mammals being isolated from the other whales or in tiny pools.

The filmmakers interview whale trainers who describe their sadness at seeing the treatment of these creatures, and pepper in gut-wrenching facts such as how the life span of killer whales is only half or a third as long in captivity as in the wild.

Needless to say, I had a newfound dismay with our innocent trip to see these sea creatures.

But I decided to continue my explorations beyond the documentary; I believe in trying to judge everyone favorably, and I felt the least I could do was give my childhood-idealized theme parks a chance to defend themselves. I soon found major research-based responses to practically everything I found so disturbing in the documentary.

For example, killer whales have not been taken from the wild since the '70s. Raking happens in the wild too. Parks with tiny pools are no longer active and often whales are separated to protect them when being attacked by their "comrades." There is a multitude of trainers who vehemently disagree with the film's depictions, including some of the people interviewed in the film claiming their words were taken out of context. The "baby whales" were only taken from their mothers after many years fully grown with babies of their own, which were actually transferred with them. And many of the "facts" about moaning, expected lifespan, and even accusations of these creatures being traumatized to the point of becoming psychotic murderous creatures were speculations and unfounded in research or facts.

So now what do I do with all this? Well, as a rabbi, I see truth. No, I don't see any truth in how to decipher which side to believe. I don't think most of us will really know a full truth about orcas in captivity, and I have no personal claim in any direction on the topic.

However, there is an important truth that I do claim we can learn from the two sides presented here in understanding the human psyche: We are inclined to believe what we hear and see.;

When something is presented to us, especially when presented emotionally and with conviction, we are inclined to believe it. And then we become impassioned about it. We'll even start to take action based on the passions we now feel. Sadly, we often skip the integral step of asking ourselves a simple question -- "Is that really true?" Is the perception I am being fed the actual truth of what happened?

It can be slightly daunting to tell our kindled emotions to slow down for a minute as we intellectually process the validity to what is being presented. If asked, we would all claim to be truth-seekers, but in order to truly seek truth, we have to sometimes give truth-seeking credence even beyond our emotions.

Part of the prayer the
Shema
includes a perplexing passage that says, "Do not stray after your hearts and after your eyes as they lead you astray." One could ask, if we can't trust our hearts and our eyes, what are we supposed to do?

The answer is that we have to think. Our hearts become impassioned by what is seen long before we have contemplated validity and truth to it. The Torah teaches us time and time again the importance of thinking for ourselves. Sometimes the supremacy of using our mind has to come before our heart's first impulse and even over our eyes' first impression.

I don't know how to feel when I think about the orcas still in captivity, but I do know that I've got a new understanding of the phrase, "Think twice before you act."

2016-02-05
]]>The Five Books that Changed My Lifehttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27450&blogid=142
I’d like to use this space to share with you the five books that have changed my life. Please let me know if these books have changed your life, too; and feel free to comment with books that have changed your life!]]>Lindsey_22016-02-01T14:12:37ZLia (Lehrer) Goldfarb

I'd like to use this space to share with you the five books that have changed my life. Please let me know if these books have changed your life, too; and feel free to comment with books that have changed your life!

I'll share these in the order by which they changed my life.

1.
The Tipping Point
by Malcolm Gladwell

It's possible that
The Tipping Point
was the first real non-fiction book I willingly read. The book teaches us how small changes can make a big difference. One of my favorite takeaways from the book is the idea of a "connector." If you're planning an event, you don't need to make 100 phone calls to invite people; instead, call the five "connectors," the people who have a million friends, and they'll bring their networks. I use these concepts every day in my work life, volunteer life and social life, and I'm grateful to this book for piquing my interest in marketing and communications.

You should read this book if … you're looking for easy fixes to increase your success with friends, business, or volunteering.

This book offers both encouragement for curly girls and step-by-step tips on how to manage, maintain, and enhance curly hair. The advice offered in this book has helped me feel confident with my wavy hair, and since reading the book more than six years ago, I have not once straightened my hair (sorry, Mom!).

You should read this book if … you have curly or wavy hair and need some emotional (or shampooical) support.

3. The Spirituality of Welcoming
by Dr. Ron Wolfson

This book is truly the reason I got into my current line of work -- synagogue membership and community. Dr. Ron Wolfson writes about the power of creating welcoming spaces and friendly communities. Synagogues (and really, any congregation or organization) can't just be about a big beautiful building -- people must feel comfortable and cared for.

Do your synagogues have directional signs? Would a visitor know where to hang her coat? Have visitors' needs been anticipated? After reading this book, I applied to work at Temple Jeremiah as the membership director and have never looked back. (Side note: When I met Dr. Wolfson a few years after reading this book, I was completely star-struck and felt I was meeting my celebrity idol.)

You should read this book if … you're involved with welcoming newcomers (and aren't we all?).

4.
The Five Love Languages: The Secret to Love that Lasts
by Gary Chapman

My husband, Adam, recommended that I read this book when we first started dating. This book discusses five different ways of expressing love, and while this book focuses on romantic love, I think it can be applied to friends, family members, and even co-workers.

People express love differently and it is important to understand how your partner expresses and receives this love, whether it's in the form of words of affirmation, physical touch, acts of service (like taking out the garbage or doing the dishes), quality time, or gifts. I found this book to be so eye-opening and a fascinating study on relationships.

You should read this book if … you're in a romantic, friend, work, or family relationship.

5.
The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up
by Marie Kondo

This is my new Obsession -- with a capital "O." I never, ever thought that tidying actually mattered all that much; everyone has a room that's off-limits during dinner parties where you throw all of your stuff into, right? But boy, do I think differently now.

In
The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up
, Marie Kondo writes that you should only keep items that bring you joy, and everything else should be thanked and then discarded. Once you're left with only joy-sparking items, every item will have a home and should be returned to its home when you're finished with it.

Since reading this book in November, I've focused on little else other than tidying using Kondo's method. As a result, I've donated a dozen bags of clothes, three bags of books, and two bags of DVDs; thrown away another dozen bags of garbage and papers; bought a scanner so I can aim towards a paperless lifestyle; and given each of my items a home. There's still more work to be done, but our apartment is on its way to being a much happier place.

You should read this book if … your house or apartment isn't what you want it to be (or if you just have too much stuff).

2016-02-01
]]>Some ‘Take Out’ Takeawayshttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27442&blogid=142
A Jewish ethicist, Rabbi Elya Lopian, once commented that the true measurement of a person’s middot, or character traits, is how he or she treats those in his or her own home.]]>Lindsey_22016-01-27T15:55:51ZNeil Harris

A Jewish ethicist, Rabbi Elya Lopian, once commented that the true measurement of a person's
middot, or character traits, is how he or she treats those in his or her own home. He observed that often people are much nicer to strangers than to loved ones in their own family. I so relate, because I am generally viewed as a nice person to strangers.

For me, a casual interaction with someone in a store isn't a big deal. It's a once or twice relationship. It's not directly ongoing, nor is there much to be gained from investing time or effort into the person at the cash register. In your family, being nice is a constant challenge. That's why it's more difficult to keep your cool, speak pleasantly, be appreciative and display a level of respect at home.

This is something -- especially in dealing with my kids -- that I am constantly working on. It's a job in the real sense, because effort is involved. There are times that I win and there are times that I slip and lose it. It's less frequent than it was, say, two years ago, but it happens.

Last night, I placed an order for some take out. I went, picked up my order, and came home. When I started unloading the purchased items, I realized that I was missing something. I quickly called the establishment and asked if the item I was "missing" was meant to be included with my order. It was. So I asked if I could come back and pick up the item and, of course, they said yes.

I showed up, explained the situation and they apologized profusely. I told them that it really wasn't a big deal and that I was sure they were just busy when they put the order together.

Then, on my way back, I wondered why I didn't adapt this easygoing attitude at home. Here I was telling them "no big deal," when I had paid for an item and didn't receive it. Yet, I find myself frustrated and impatient when I ask one of my kids to pick up their dirty clothes and they choose not to. It's not like I paid them to actually clean up their clothes; there was no implied exchange for services rendered. There is, however, a relationship built on trust, love, respect and appreciation. That's really the kicker.

When working with any "volunteers" it's imperative to appreciate what they do. I realized that my strategy of working on patience and keeping my cool only really affects how I perceive things, or the input -- not the output.

So, when I came home, I went straight into my son's room and told him that I really appreciate all the effort he puts into studying, and that I understand that after a full day of school he might be too tired to care about the state of his room. I also told him that if he wants help picking up clothes, I'd be happy to assist him.

If I can be nice and understanding to the person behind the counter, then I should be even more so to my own family. Well, at least, that's the plan.

2016-01-27
]]>Top Jewish Sports Jerseys for 2016http://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27438&blogid=142
As a child I was a big fan of sports jerseys. I would buy the jerseys of all sorts of athletes. The problem was once that player got traded, it took years before some of them became retro and “acceptable” to wear. (I am still waiting on my Rex Grossman jersey to be cool again.)]]>Lindsey_22016-01-26T14:13:31ZJeremy Fine

As a child I was a big fan of sports jerseys. I would buy the jerseys of all sorts of athletes. The problem was once that player got traded, it took years before some of them became retro and "acceptable" to wear. (I am still waiting on my Rex Grossman jersey to be cool again.)

Below is a list of what I thought were the top 10 Jewish jerseys to wear in 2016.

Jordan Farmar -- Los Angeles Lakers (Yellow)
It seems that Jordan Farmar's NBA days are behind him. He is back to playing in Israel for Maccabi Tel Aviv. His MTA days will be limited and he will probably retire within a year or two (maybe with one last effort to play in the NBA, but Farmar's two stints with the Lakers make his jersey retro and his playing for MTA makes it a legit Jewish jersey.

Jason Zucker -- Minnesota Wild(Red and Green)
I live in Minnesota. Zucker jerseys are popping up everywhere. Hockey jerseys aren't cheap, so Wild fans must really love this MOT. Zucker is hip because he isn't the best player on the team, but he is young and a fan favorite.

Jay Fielder -- Miami Dolphins
I'm color blind on the Jay Fiedler jersey. Both Dolphins home and away are sweet jerseys. Fiedler is a classic retro jersey for Dolphins fans but Jewish fans as well. There are usually a few being sold on eBay at a time.

Josh Rosen -- UCLA Bruins
We don't care if your UCLA jersey is white, gold or blue. We just want you to support Josh Rosen. He is truly the next big thing in Jewish sports. The true freshman quarterback showed incredible poise in his opening campaign. We cannot wait to see what he does next … in a UCLA or NFL jersey.

Joc Pederson -- Los Angeles Dodgers (White)
Pederson jerseys are flying off the shelves. Of course, it's a nod to his phenomenal start in 2015 and his sweet rookie stroke. Collectors and fans love the newest sensation, but a Joc Pederson Israel WBC jersey would also be acceptable (actually preferred).

Nancy Lieberman (Cline) -- Phoenix Mercury or Team USA
Now she goes by Nancy Lieberman, but in her playing days there was a Cline at the end. There is only one jersey of hers available on eBay or Amazon and it is autographed. But if you can find one, grab it. Great jersey for your collection and rare in the sense that WNBA merchandise isn't as common as NBA. Her newfound success with the Sacramento Kings and her Hall of Fame playing career make her jersey awesome.

Kevin Youkilis -- Boston Red Sox (White)
There is something iconic about white Red Sox jerseys. And there is something iconic about Kevin Youkilis. Not only was he a fan favorite, Youkilis is now retired so his jersey is back to being cool. You know when it wasn't cool? When he was playing for the Yankees.

Julian Edelman -- New England Patriots (Old School Red)
You can find Julian Edelman jerseys everywhere. He is a part of the Tom Brady/New England Patriots offensive machine. His jersey is cool because, frankly, he is cool. But what you should really check out is his
clothing site. I recently bought his JE11 hat. I do not regret it.

Omri Casspi -- Kings (Purple) or Maccabi Tel Aviv (Yellow)
Casspi is still the king of the Jewish sports world and his jersey should be no different. The only question is do you want to rep him in Kings purple or Maccabi yellow? You cannot go wrong either way. His Kings jersey is easy to find online; his Maccabi jersey is more difficult. Both will forever be great Jewish jerseys.

Sandy Koufax -- Los Angeles Dodgers (White)
There probably will never be a jersey that can top the Koufax white Dodgers jersey. It is legendary to baseball, to the Dodgers and to Jews. Buy it. Rep it. Respect it.

2016-01-26
]]>Warm Tuscan Kale Saladhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27434&blogid=142
Have you ever gone to a restaurant and thought, ”Hmmm why can’t I make stuff like this at home?”]]>Lindsey_22016-01-25T16:17:31Zwith Garlic Chips, Oranges and PecansMila Furman

Have you ever gone to a restaurant and thought, "Hmmm why can't I make stuff like this at home?"

That was precisely my thought process when I tasted this salad at one of my favorite swanky Italian restaurants in Chicago. It was pure joyful bliss in my mouth. Healthy, citrusy, nutty and all sorts of savory.

When I ordered it from the menu for the table (I do all the ordering when we go out because I am a food snob and I
know
what everyone needs to eat. That's just how I roll …) everyone stared at me and said, "Ehhh kale …yuck, Mila, it's soooo played out."

What they did not understand was that this was Tuscan kale -- the best kind of kale. The green, meatier and more delicious cousin of classic kale. Did you know that just one cup of kale has over two times the amount of Vitamin A you need in a single day? Yup, it is awesomely good for you and delicious.

"Trust me on this one … this stuff is fabulous and if you do not like it, I will happily eat all of it." They seemed to be satisfied with that answer and allowed me to finish ordering the 15 other items from the menu.

The salad arrived delicately sliced, slightly warm and adorned with garlic chips and orange segments. It was delicious -- tangy, crunchy and just plain good. They all ate their words and ended up ordering another one. Never doubt the food snob -- I know how to order.

The following week I decided to make this salad for my lunches to take to work. Finding Tuscan kale, it turns out, is not as easy as you might think. You could certainly use regular kale for this, but I just love the deep green color in contrast with the bright oranges. It's just gorgeous on a plate. So of course I continued searching and after stopping by at the third grocery store, Whole Foods, I ended up with a gorgeous bouquet of Tuscan kale.

Generally, Tuscan kale is just a bit more fibrous than classic kale, so it is imperative to slice it into thin ribbons after washing and massaging it. Yes, massage it just a bit while washing -- it helps it become a bit less fibrous.

My personal favorite of this recipe is the garlic chips. They are absurdly easy to make, healthy and change the entire flavor profile of the dish.

Little slivers of golden deliciousness are upon us friends, and they are fantastic.

Turns out those fancy restaurant salads aren't nearly as complicated as everyone thinks they are. Trust me, give this salad a try; it is great served fresh as well as the next day. What an awesome way to freshen up those boring salads we are all sick of.

If you need that extra protein bump, add some grilled shrimp or some poached eggs on top.

- I toasted my pecans over low heat in a regular pan on the stove. You have to toss them around pretty frequently and only toast them for 4-5 minutes until they develop a nice nutty, toasted aroma. Be careful, they burn fast!

2016-01-25
]]>15 Yearshttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27415&blogid=142
I’m getting a little nostalgic. This is my 15th year of being a certified fitness trainer. I never imagined I would be in the fitness world this long. Training has moved from hobby and part-time job, to full-time passion. When I received my updated training card I couldn’t help but reflect back on all the people and places that have influenced me and my training style.]]>Lindsey_22016-01-18T14:40:03ZRon Krit

I'm getting a little nostalgic. This is my 15th year of being a certified fitness trainer. I never imagined I would be in the fitness world this long. Training has moved from hobby and part-time job, to full-time passion. When I received my updated training card I couldn't help but reflect back on all the people and places that have influenced me and my training style.

I remember my first success story was in college. A guy from my dorm, Nick, wanted to lose 60 pounds. He had no idea where to start on the fitness end and he knew I went to the gym every day. I couldn't wait to give him a muscle-burning, heart-pounding and sweat-soaked workout.

Having been underweight for the first 20 years of my life, I had no idea how hard it was for someone overweight to workout. Watching him struggle with each exercise forced me to change things up. Instead of a blistering fast-weight workout, we slowed things down. I also swapped our post-workout jog for basketball, and Nick actually started to enjoy himself. As the weight gradually dropped off, he started going to the gym without me. I was a little sad, even though he paid me with compliments and free hugs. The good news was way before the year was over, he dropped the weight and kept it off for the next four years.

Another important lesson I learned from Nick was that calorie restriction works. I was walking into the cafeteria one time and saw Nick eating chicken fingers and fries. I was pissed. "How are you going to work your butt off in the gym and then eat that?" I asked.

He responded with numbers. "500 calories. I'm still well under my goal for the day."

Before cellphone apps, Nick tracked his calories, estimated how much he burned and it worked. Granted, eating fried chicken is not the best way to lose weight, but it illustrates you can still eat some crap as long as you burn more calories than you take in.

Although I had a few more clients before 2001, Fit with Krit officially started that year because the consulting company I was working for closed shop. Since my lucrative career as a consultant didn't pan out, I started working part time as a trainer at Bally's on Webster and Clybourn.

The gym manager at the time was a character primed for WrestleMania. Steve was about the size of a linebacker, and loved working out. I used to make these oatmeal and apple sauce cookies that my family refused to eat, so I brought them to the gym. Steve tried one and flashed his larger-than-life smile, then asked me to bring him one batch a week and handed me some cash. He loved them because they were high in protein, so I started baking, and my experimentation with cooking took off.

Bally's was packed, but most of the members were recent college grads with little disposable income for personal training sessions. I did pick up a few clients, however, including a couple I'm still friends with today.

I started training Melissa as she prepared for her wedding to Bob. At the time, Bob was more into working out then Melissa, so I started training him. Bob really pushed me to be creative -- he loved to play. If I could make something a game, he was way more into it. Soon I started training Bob's sister, Holly. At the time, kickboxing was all the rage, and Holly asked if we could try it. Suddenly I was wearing a chest guard and pads while Holly literally hit me so hard it gave me indigestion. I had to schedule her sessions before meals so I wouldn't burp up chicken for an hour.

This family also brought me my first assistant. Their sister, Christy, wanted to become a personal trainer, so she started shadowing me. After a few months she got certified and helped me lead bootcamps.

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I was only at Bally's a few years before moving on to Hifi Fitness, but I had somehow outlasted all but one person who started before me.

Hifi Fitness was a great move for me; I could charge clients less money and still make more than I did at Bally's. Additionally, the owners of the gym were welcoming and open to my crazy equipment requests. I still remember when I brought in a 30-foot rope and one of the owners immediately fell in love: "Kritter, I'll buy this off you for the gym." I even have a few videos of clients using the ropes.

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One of the stars of these videos was Rodney. I started training him about a decade ago, and his athleticism forced me to learn more about training athletes. Rodney was a college football player, but could've easily played baseball too. He's run marathons, climbed mountains and dealt with a handful of injuries. Although I'm probably too cautious for him at times, it's been fun coming up with programs that build power, endurance and balance. Out of all the programs we did, my favorite was an exercise for the back, legs and chest followed with an agility exercise, like whipping a medicine ball at me so hard I almost fell over.

{{27419}}

Another benefit to Hifi was the vast array of amazing trainers. I was able to take courses on functional movement, improving shoulder and hip movement, and core stability. Between the classes and talking to other trainers, my philosophy adapted once again. I was now being more conscious of joint structure, gait patterns (how people walk), and building up the core.

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My nights and weekends at Hifi started diminishing once my wife and I had Henry. I loved my gym family and my clients, but spending time away from Henry was hard. I felt bad missing almost a whole day of the weekend with my guy. And when my wife was pregnant with baby number two, I told my clients I wasn't sure if I could still come downtown. I couldn't make the sacrifice -- it was too hard to miss that much family time.

I now train people at my home and started to work with high school athletes. I'm excited to see how this phase of Fit with Krit develops and to watch my two sons play (safely) with all the equipment.

2016-01-18
]]>The Hard Question(s)http://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27410&blogid=142
Everyone makes fun of each other for New Year’s resolutions. Why? I say root for each other.]]>Lindsey_22016-01-14T13:59:05ZLiz Kaydanovsky

"Haters gonna hate …shake it off! I shake it off!

Thanks for the reminder Tay.

Everyone makes fun of each other for New Year's resolutions. Why? I say root for each other. Those that set resolutions, their hearts are in the right place. And if a new year is what it takes to light a fire, to motivate people to make (or attempt) serious changes in their lives, I call that dedication, discipline, and
effort.

That's more than I can say for myself.

For me, Jan. 1 is not a magical day. Unfortunately, the date itself is not enough to motivate me or flip a metaphorical switch to make some life moves. It does not change my goals directly. It is a reminder. It taps me on the shoulder and says "hey, just letting you know, lights come on at midnight."

Well kind of. It's the reminder that another year bids farewell. And I'm all like "psst, intuition, suit up!" And then I unleash some
awakening Qs:

- Am I surrounded by people I love, both literally (NYE parties can be amazing), and figuratively?
- Am I happy?
- What is working for me? What is not?
- What is my vision?
- What is my next step?

And a million other questions.

So as the clock struck 12 … just kidding, more like the following afternoon, I had a heart-to-heart with myself. If you know me, you know that it's normal for our conversation to feel like a game of 20 Questions. Asking a lot of questions is kind of my thing. All sorts of 'em. It comes from a place of genuine curiosity. But now I know how exhausting that can be (sorry friends). Because boy did I interrogate myself.

It was exhausting, terrifying, exhilarating, and eye-opening. It's tough, you know? Asking the hard questions, hearing your own disappointing responses (don't act like you don't talk to yourself). It's not fun to hit your head against the wall over and over again, but it does force you to think. And that's what I did. I started problem-solving. My first decision/plan/step felt like the first raindrop of a brewing storm, and then it
poured.

One idea after the next, small thoughts turned into big ones. I got excited just thinking about the possibilities, my end goal, my abilities, and about all of you reading my posts. When you get an influx of pure energy like that, you hold on to it for as long as you can.

THANK YOU for everything, but mostly for continuing to remind me to question. I'm excited for the future of my writing and my personal blog,
20swealth. Feel free to connect and comment anytime; all feedback is welcome!

P.S. I also made a bold decision and made a video, something I would never have done before this point. Baby steps, right?

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2016-01-14
]]>One Billion Dollarshttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27406&blogid=142
I have a confession to make. It’s practically treasonous, so prepare yourself: I do not want a billion dollars.]]>Lindsey_22016-01-13T14:26:41ZJeremy Owens

I have a confession to make. It's practically treasonous, so prepare yourself: I do not want a billion dollars.

Please don't have me carted away. I know that's the most un-American thing that you've read today, and that I sound like a brat. It's the truth, though. I don't want that much money.

Well, maybe that's not entirely true. Like everyone else, I desperately want to win the Powerball Jackpot. The $950 million or whatever $1.5 billion eventually whittles down to after taxes sounds incredible, but I cannot be trusted with that much money.

Think about it. One billion is a completely ridiculous number. I can't even comprehend what one billion actually is. It makes no sense. Google tells me that if I need help wrapping my little head around the number, I should use the term "one thousand million." I guess that helps a bit, I can almost visualize what that means, but I still find it difficult and now my eye is twitching.

One billion is a lot. It might be too much. Did you know that it's estimated that it takes approximately 95 years to count from one to one billion in a single sitting? One billion seconds is nearly 32 years. One billion minutes ago the Roman Empire was alive and well. There are 15,783 miles in one billion inches, that's a little more than half way around the Earth. This game could go on forever, since Google apparently knows everything. Let's be honest, nobody cares what one billion of anything means unless you're talking about money.

What would you do with one billion dollars? Like you, I've spent a lot of time fantasizing about what I would do with all of that money. I suppose one of the first things I would have to do is pay off my student loans. If I had anything left I'd go to Hawaii until June, or maybe forever. I also want a house with a backyard, a new car, my own masseuse and a chef. All of those things are doable and mostly responsible. The trouble is that I know myself and it wouldn't take long for me to get out of control.

I am not someone who would be responsible and coy about the money after I got those first necessary items out of the way. I'd probably end up with a Girl Scout Cookie factory in my back yard, the cast of
Hamilton
performing on my front porch every morning, and an apartment made entirely of cheese. Guys, I really like cheese. Like,
a lot.

After I bought all of the cheese in France I'm guessing my book and magazine addiction would get woefully out of control. What else would I do with my time? I am also not the sort of person who would humbly return to his job. The money would be my job. I'd spend it, count it, stack it, and roll around in it. When I'm tired of this, the only thing left for me to do would be to rescue all of the dogs from all of the shelters. I'd be the crazy old dog man. And listen, when I say "all" I really do mean
all.
I am a billionaire now, after all, so I can do things like ask for all of a thing and have it happen.

Surely you weren't expecting me to solve any problems. Oh, I guess I'd give a ton of money to causes and organizations I care about. I'm not sure what I'd do beyond that. Maybe buy some new politicians? It certainly wouldn't be the first time that has happened. I mean, that is a thing I could do, right?

See, being a billionaire is hard. I'm tired from the stress, and I'm just pretending from my couch in Rogers Park. I definitely do not want that money. I do have $20 in my pocket, though. That will buy me 10 tickets, right? I can walk to the convenience store on the corner and buy the tickets right now. They do sell cheese -- fine, I'm buying tickets. Those dogs need me.

2016-01-13
]]>The Long Journey to Grandma’s Househttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27398&blogid=142
Sometimes the journey makes you appreciate the destination that much more. I know many of us have received this advice, and it applies to so many situations: Becoming a bar/bat mitzvah, graduating college, navigating your first “real job” and things like what I experienced just last month -- traveling from Washington, D.C. to central Illinois with an 18-month-old. ]]>Lindsey_22016-01-11T15:23:02ZAndy Kirschner

Making cookies with Grandma

Sometimes the journey makes you appreciate the destination that much more. I know many of us have received this advice, and it applies to so many situations: Becoming a bar/bat mitzvah, graduating college, navigating your first "real job" and things like what I experienced just last month -- traveling from Washington, D.C. to central Illinois with an 18-month-old.

The car was fully loaded with the luggage, the cooler stocked with snacks, the child resting in his car seat. The clock read 8:33 a.m. Wow! Most weekdays it's a fight to get out the door before 8:00 a.m. Considering we were leaving for a week-long vacation and it was only 30 minutes after the usual departure time, this was a Nobel Prize-level accomplishment.

At our first stop, the clock read just before 11:00 a.m. We were making excellent time. I wondered aloud to my wife about the possibility of getting to her parents late that night instead of having to stop at a hotel along the way. At the time, we were on pace to arrive before midnight. As we pulled out of the truck stop in Breezewood, Pennsylvania, it sure seemed plausible, but it would only take about 30 minutes for our exciting and optimistic plans to completely unravel.

My son, Johnny, gets carsick sometimes. The doctor says it's a normal thing for infants and they usually grow out of it. Well, Johnny proved to us three times on the way to my in-laws that he refuses to grow out of it.

After each incident, I would look at the clock as we pulled away from another gas station, truck stop or highway shoulder and do the math in my head. We were laughably behind, yet neither of us wanted to stop at a hotel only to wake up and deal with this all over again the next day. By about 9 p.m., we finally got him to sleep and resigned to push through, taking turns sleeping ourselves so we could just get there.

It was shortly after that decision that the annoying rattle our car had been making for a while -- the one our mechanic assured us was nothing to really worry about -- started gaining some,
umph. Before long, it was more of a roar, and then there were funny car smells. It was after midnight, somewhere in Indiana. We pulled into a truck stop in Mclean, Illinois for some snacks to keep us going, and then the car wouldn't start up again. We were just over 90 minutes from our destination, it was after 1:00 a.m. and we were stuck.

Here is actually, where the story starts to change for the better. We dragged a very confused 18-month-old into a truck stop to try and figure out what to do. The people there were really lovely. They offered us free juice and cookies for the baby. When my wife ordered a sandwich they refused to let us pay. One of the employees actually locked her keys into her car while trying to give ours a jump and refused to take any money for the kit she had to buy in order to break into her own car. They basically let our family loiter for over three hours while we got ahold of my mother-in-law, who picked us up around 4:30 a.m.

We finally made it to bed just before 7 a.m., so almost 24 hours (accounting for the time change) after we had left home. As my head hit the pillow, I took a deep breath before nodding off to sleep and took in the familiar smell of the wood-burning stove used to heat the home in the winter. The fire had burned down hours ago, but the faint, smoky smell was still in the air, surrounding the home with its tender warmth. Just before nodding off, I heard sounds from the kitchen of Johnny babbling to his grandpa, who took over childcare for a few hours so we could sleep. We left the two of them eating cereal together.

Cousins

I can't say I learned some grand lesson from all of this. Maybe we learned it's time to start flying home or just give up long trips for a few years. In all seriousness, however, there were two moments during the whole ordeal that stuck with me, and they weren't low points -- they were times when I caught myself smiling.

At one point we were coming upon a traffic jam on the highway, and at that very moment Johnny got sick again. With no exit in sight, I just pulled over to the side of the highway. I imagined what the drivers slowly passing by were thinking as we frantically pulled our kid out of the car like there was a fire. We ripped off Johnny's clothes and as we went through the luggage for clean ones, he stood there in his diaper, smiling and waving at the cars and trucks rolling by. Everyone, including the people in those cars, was laughing.

The next moment was when our car broke down, and it became clear that we were stuck. In my weary head, I turned to gratitude. I was grateful that we were at a brightly lit, clean and familiar truck stop. I appreciated that there was a repair shop next door that confirmed they would be open the next day, Christmas Eve. We would have a way to repair our car in time for our trip home. Lastly, we had somehow made it far enough that my mother-in-law could actually retrieve us.

I think Johnny was especially glad about that last part. He smiled like an angel when his grandma finally arrived. After a long and perilous journey, over rivers and through woods, it truly was a wonderful visit to her house.

2016-01-11
]]>Where’s Our Parade?http://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27389&blogid=142
I love Israel Solidarity Day and the Walk with Israel, but while a participatory walkathon is important, I want a parade -- floats and bands and a grandstand, the whole schmear.]]>Lindsey_22016-01-05T12:38:55ZPaul Wieder

Paul with his family at Israel Solidarity Day in 2015

I love Israel Solidarity Day and the Walk with Israel, but while a participatory walkathon is important, I want a
parade
-- floats and bands and a grandstand, the whole
schmear.

A Jewish Parade, with a capital P.

Every year in Chicago, we see the St. Patrick's Day and Gay Pride and Columbus Day parades, among others, and they are great fun. But there are 300,000 Jews in Chicago, too. So where's our parade?

Yes, we have the Jewish Festival every other June, when we head out to a forest preserve and stuff our faces and groove to live music. I love it, I have attended almost every festival, and I think I have certainly at least written about it every time.

But I want a parade. Down Michigan Avenue or State Street. Haven't we earned it?

We can tie it into a holiday, like St. Pat's or Cinco de Mayo. Now, no one wants to schlep around
outside
in Chicago during Chanukah; we already bought our High Holiday tickets; and we promised Bubbie we'd be home for Passover.

So I nominate Purim. The
Purimshpiel
was the original Mardi Gras anyway. Think about it -- a free-for-all costume parade in early spring? Shushan is a much older city than New Orleans, people.

OK, so for next Purim, I want a huge, brash, proper parade. I want to tie up traffic for miles while people throw confettti at us.

I want klezmer bands and Sephardi oud ensembles and Israeli dancers promenading down the street. There could be an All-Shofar Ensemble and the Cantor's Assembly float, which would not need microphones. There would be floats with Jewish a cappella groups, both college and pro.

I want one band made up of all the Jewish students in all Chicago's high school marching bands, all wearing their own school's uniforms, but playing the same songs. They would be led by a similar array of cheerleaders, all from different schools, but leaping and tumbling together.

I want baton-twirling, and juggling -- and the One-Hundred-Gragger Brigade, made up entirely of kids, graggering the entire way (like we could stop them).

I want guys with kibbutz hats in teeny tractors zooming around; you can call them the Geshrai-ners.

And not just performers; local celebrities -- activists, scholars, athletes, broadcasters, officials -- leaders from all fields in convertibles, simply waving and being there. Showing up because they are us, or just because they stand by us.

The Shomrim Society of Jewish police officers would march. And the Jewish War Veterans. Even great Jews from history could attend, in the guise of actors in costumes.

Synagogues would have floats, and so would organizations, and unions … and restaurants and hospitals and retailers, everyone. I want corporations and public officials sponsoring floats. Religious, political, social groups -- anyone who has benefitted from the work and wisdom of Chicago's Jews.

Overhead, I want gigantic balloons of Jewish cartoon characters like Feivel Mousekewitz and Krusty the Clown.

Last, I want Mel Brooks and Natalie Portman commenting from the grandstand, spicing their remarks with Yiddishisms and Israeli slang.

Imagine it: Ten miles of floats, all poised and glittering. Tens of thousands gathered on the sidewalks, with graggers and toy shofars.

Then a drum majorette brandishes her baton -- with a Magen David at the tip. She starts to march, followed by Haman leading regally dressed Mordechai on a huge white horse. "Thus shall be done to the one the king wishes to honor!" he calls on his megaphone. At this, the first band bursts into a raucous "Hava Nagila!"

After them, hundreds of people -- Jews and others -- follow behind, winding their way through the heart of one of the most important cities in the world.

Purim in 2016 is on Thursday, March 24. We have mere months to make this happen, people.

Oh, and I get dibs on inviting Mel.

2016-01-05
]]>Beautifulhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27385&blogid=142
There's a moment at the opening of Beautiful: The Carole King Musical, currently playing in Chicago, when the character portraying Jewish singer Carole King remarks that even life's hardest parts can turn out to be beautiful.]]>Lindsey_22016-01-04T14:24:14ZCindy Sher

Abby Mueller playing Carole King in the Chicago engagement of Beautiful: The Carole King Musical. Photo credit: Joan Marcus

There's a moment at the opening of Beautiful: The Carole King Musical, currently playing in Chicago, when the character portraying Jewish singer Carole King remarks that even life's hardest parts can turn out to be beautiful.

Indeed, she was on to something. Most of us have lives that overflow with blessings and we should thank God for them every single day. But it's just as much the struggles that shape us into the people we are. When I think about the challenges I've been through in my life -- family illness, the loss of loved ones, and relationships that ended -- those are the times, with a little distance and hindsight, that have morphed into unexpected blessings. For it's not the just the smooth sailing, but the tough stuff that makes us stronger, kinder, fuller, more empathetic human beings.

My sister used to joke that she wanted to wrap her three young sons in "bubble wrap," to shield them from the dark parts of the world. She's given up on that motherly mission, and considering the state of the world these days, there isn't enough bubble wrap on the globe for that anyway. No, we not only can't hide our children from the pain of life, but it's often their struggles that help form them into the mensches we hope they become.

We've all heard the old adage from Jewish folklore that "This too shall pass," indicating that current conditions in life are always fleeting. When bad things happen, I think about those words that my grandparents and parents would often tell me, and it reminds me that most people are resilient and the bad times are only temporary.

At the same time, we can't live our lives in constant joy either. The joy, too, shall pass. But in times of pain, we should try really hard to hold onto the faith in knowing that happiness will return.

As author and success coach Jen Sincero says, "Faith is having the audacity to believe in the not-yet-seen."

How lucky we are as Jews to ring in two new years -- the secular new year that we just celebrated and the Jewish new year in the fall, two chances for a clean slate, two chances to start the next chapter in our stories.

When some Jewish girlfriends and I met for dinner recently, we took turns going around the table and sharing the biggest lessons we learned over the course of the past 12 months.

We'd collectively charted all kinds of new paths in 2015 -- exploring our spiritual lives as Jews, forging new friendships and deepening older ones, starting new romantic pursuits and closing the chapter on others, raising little children, and taking on new professional challenges.

For many, our past year played out differently than we'd envisioned, filled with simcha, but also sadness.

As we watched some doors close these last 12 months, we'll see new ones open with unexpected blessings in 2016. Each of us will take a journey in the year ahead, and there's something hopeful and exciting about the unknown, the beckoning prospect of many varied paths and possibilities that will unfold for each of us this year, with new people waiting just around the corner to enter our lives.

Yet while we embrace the sweetness of our hopeful futures, we know all about the bitterness too, in our own personal lives and in the world at large, a world that seems to be shattering in chaos before our eyes. We know all too well the world confronts us with human turmoil, strife, and disaster, a world crying out for repair -- for tikkun olam (repairing the world).

Here's wishing all of us faith and resilience to triumph over our personal and collective struggles, with whatever growth and insights they may be bring in the year ahead -- and wishing to all a new year overflowing with blessings.

2016-01-04
]]>Jewish Off-Season Baseball Stories to Watch 2015-16http://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27381&blogid=142
A lot of the big free-agent splashes have been made already, dominating baseball headlines, but here are the Jewish story lines to follow this baseball offseason.]]>Lindsey_22015-12-31T09:59:00ZJeremy Fine

Joc Pederson

A lot of the big free-agent splashes have been made already, dominating baseball headlines, but here are the Jewish story lines to follow this baseball offseason.

Be Like Ike

After a mediocre year with the Oakland Athletics and their never-ending ability to retool, Ike Davis finds himself out of Oakland. The power-hitting first baseman hit only three home runs last season. Someone may take a flyer on him in hopes he can regain his 32-HR strength from back in 2012.

Start with Breslow

Craig Breslow has been one of baseball's most reliable pitchers in middle relief. But he is seeking a job as a starting pitcher. He's done in Boston (though we have said that before) and looking to reinvent his career.

More than Three Starts

Jon Moscot of the Reds was off to a 1-1 record in his first tgree starts, but then he blew out his shoulder. Moscot was the newest Jewish pitcher in the league and we hope he can get back to where he was before the injury. He made an appearance at the Reds Winter Festival and looks ready to get back to work.

Who's Next?

We are always looking at who has the potential to be the next Jewish major leaguer. Both Jeremy Bleich (Indians) and Richard Bleier (Nationals) have come close. We will watch to see what happens, but my money is on Maxx Tissenbaum, who was recently traded to the Marlins, and Zach Weiss, who was rumored for a September 2015 call-up with the Reds. Others to keep an eye on are Max Fried (Braves) and Alex Bregman (Astros), both first-round selections.

Second Chances

Cody Decker finally found his way to the Bigs and is now in Kansas City. Nate Freiman didn't appear in the Bigs after a decent amount of success in 2014. Josh Zeid spent the whole season in the Minors too. Will these three help boost the JMLB numbers … and their respective teams?

Ausmus on the Hot Seat

Some would call Brad Ausmus lucky to still have his job. The Tigers grossly underachieved last season and the Ausmus rumors were everywhere. But he is back, we are happy, and hopefully he can prove to Detroit just how great of a manager he can be.

Braun's Back

There were, and continue to be, trade rumors surrounding Ryan Braun. He serves as Milwaukee's best asset. But after off-season back surgery, he first needs to get healthy.

Gabe Kapler and the Dodgers

Gabe Kapler was rumored to be in line for the Dodgers managerial position, which ultimately went to Dave Roberts. But Kapler remains with the team and is waiting for his shot. If Roberts slips up, Kapler could be next in line.

Jerry Narron and Israel

Israel was announced for the qualifiers for the 2017 World Baseball Classic. While we wait to hear who will make up the roster, we do know Brewers bench coach and former MLB Manager Jerry Narron (not Jewish) will be on the staff. A big believer in Israel, Narron is excited to be a part of the team.

Joc Pederson

Joc Pederson owned the first half of the 2015 season and was named to the All-Star game. He was all but anointed National League Rookie of the Year until a less-than-pretty second half of the season. Jewish baseball fans everywhere are locked into Joc's story. He is young, talented and wearing Dodger blue.

2015-12-31
]]>My First Christmashttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27375&blogid=142
‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, except me, who took every possible moment to tell everyone how long it was until Christmas.]]>Lindsey_22015-12-30T14:10:24ZAs told by a 28-year-old JewAdam Daniel Miller

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, except me, who took every possible moment to tell everyone how long it was until Christmas. For example, "It's two hours until Christmas!" or "It's 100 minutes until Christmas!" That's because after 28 years on Earth, this year was my first legitimate Christmas, i.e. actually participating in Christmas activities for the sake of Christmas, not the normal Christmas piggybacking I did with watching
A Christmas Story
on TV for 24 hours straight. (Side note: Jews shouldn't really be piggybacking on anything. It's not kosher).

Usually on Christmas I participate in the stereotypical movie and Italian food. What? Not Italian food? Get out of town! So I've been doing it wrong for 28 years!? Oh well, moving on.

To mark this first ever day where X-Mas truly marked the spot, I celebrated with my girlfriend's family.

As we all know,
Christmas has always been an important holiday to me. But this being the first time I ever celebrated Christmas proper, the level of anticipation was heightened considerably with a buildup of practically three decades. So while Jewish Free Day was not in full effect this year, I couldn't have been more excited to see what it was like from the other side of the Christmas tree.

As the clock approached midnight, the need for sleep was at hand, but this was no easy feat. This was like the night before going to Disneyworld. Sleep would be difficult. I tried counting sheep (we were in rural Indiana so it was easy) but I forgot how excited I get when sheep counting. I instead counted pigs. That was boaring and put me right to sleep.

The moment the sun came up I was yelling, screaming, jumping up and down on the bed, bellowing, "It's Christmas! It's Christmas!" for all to hear, whether they liked it or not. I opened the window and it was -- kinda rainy and gross, but it was Christmas rainy and gross! So it didn't matter!

I ran downstairs in my all excitement! Then I ran back upstairs since I forgot to put on some pants in all my excitement. With the extra moment of pants assimilation in progress, I decided form that point forward I was going to make everything Christmas themed that day.

Since I have only previously celebrated Chanukah, getting all my presents at the same time on the same day instead of one by one over eight nights was amazing. It felt like Netflix for presents. Everything was available at once. And I'm glad to say, Santa did come in the middle of night -- but in secret form. You know, Secret Santa. Heh heh.

So while I didn't get to see the big guy in the red suit firsthand, which was slightly disappointing only because I wanted a Coke, I still profusely enjoyed the chance to participate in actual Secret Santa. (Although I'm still trying to get everyone on board with "Completely Obvious Santa" -- that's when you pick a name and then yell, "Hey! I'm your Santa!")

After opening all the presents, the rest of the day was dedicated to playing with all of our new toys (as an adult, there's nothing more fun than a new humidifier) and chilling. After all, we did the Netflix equivalent with the presents.

Chanukah never gave me the day off of work, but Christmas does just that, so I might as well take advantage of it. I mean, Christmas has eggnog when Chanukah doesn't have any nog! Honestly, the Jews are severely lacking in nog and need to step up their nog game.

I am excited for the future Christmas shenanigans I will no doubt be able to take part in, in years to come. Perhaps I'll throw some Chanukah flair into Christmas Day with a rousing game of dreidel, or a riveting rendition of "I Have a Little Dreidel." Basically, my ace in the hole is dreidel.

So what did I take away from this, my first ever X-Mas? Well I got a couple DVDs, some new slippers, candy and -- that's not what you meant? You meant "what did I gain from this experience?" I see. You want some genuine Adam stuff to finish off this Oy-tastic year. Well, what I liked most about my first Christmas is the idea of taking the time to relax and enjoy the company of family and friends. Life is hectic; sometimes insanely so. I honestly lose sleep sometimes so I can do the trivial or fun things I enjoy in life, like write this. I don't often get the opportunity to just do nothing without feeling guilt for neglecting something else. Christmas allows, of all things, for me to have that guiltless feeling in whatever it is I do that day. Even if it's just playing games, watching movies or spending time with loved ones.

It's very similar to why I like Rosh Hashanah -- the family element, the excuse to get together for positive reasons. While Chanukah can certainly have that, it doesn't always feel the same as the higher profile Jewish holidays. But having Christmas available in my life (thanks Winter a.k.a. my girlfriend) gives me more reason than ever to say
that it is an important holiday to me.

Christmas is a new and exciting opportunity to experience what I love about the holidays the most. Not the presents, not even necessarily the traditions, but the idea of togetherness -- being able to share those presents and traditions. And also maybe the food. Plus, now I can make watching
A Christmas Story
on TV for 24 hours straight a true Christmas tradition instead of the ironically Jewish tactic of piggybacking. So I pretty much win Christmas.

2015-12-30
]]>How to Get a Bloody Nosehttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27367&blogid=142
At 8 years old I rammed a shopping cart into a pyramid of cans at Hungarian Kosher Market and spent the next half hour in the parking lot with an ice pack tilting my head back.]]>Lindsey_22015-12-29T14:47:40ZEliana Block

At the Lebanese border

At 8 years old I rammed a shopping cart into a pyramid of cans at Hungarian Kosher Market and spent the next half hour in the parking lot with an ice pack tilting my head back. During basketball practice in seventh grade, a friend set a pick on me, missed, hit my nose and covered her own face in shock. I laughed with lines of crimson dribbling down my chin and said, "Now I'm bleeding from two places." At 14, I broke my nose in a swimming pool, 16 a soccer ball, and by 18 my bedroom just really needed a humidifier.

For three years all was quiet on the nose-in-front, until last night, when I cried so hard I couldn't tell whether my nose or neck was bleeding.

But to understand we need to backtrack over a year ago, to November 4, 2014, the day I made contact with the first of many in the long chain of Israeli reporters.

How to get a bloody nose:

1. Find a friend who knows an Israeli reporter so you can network. Make a good first impression. Ask about summer internships in fall. Write, "I know that it may seem a bit early to be thinking about this, but for someone who's always been passionate about writing, news, and Israel, I would say I'm being only moderately proactive." Click "Send." Wait and nail-bite.

2. Click "Compose"on Dec.16. Write, "Just reconnecting after a few busy weeks and holiday season here. I was wondering if we could set up a time to chat."

3. … Taste cuticle.

4. Finally get a human response. Get the "okay" to give them a call. Reach for the phone and notice they don't have an American line...

5. Stay confident when you're told that your Hebrew isn't t good enough for breaking news coverage. Read to line two: "You may be able to intern with our culture/lifestyle editor...." Do the stir-the-pot dance also known as the cabbage patch.

6. Apply for the university's international travel grant in the hopes you get the internship. On the "funds requesting" sheet, put down price figures to an El-Al standard. Ask for $2,500 total, because Bubbie taught you how to negotiate.

7. The lifestyles editor responds mid-March asking for writing samples. Jump on your bed at school. Bounce for approximately 25 seconds before realizing if the bed breaks you'd probably have to sell a kidney to replace it. Desist jumping and call Mom instead.

8. Mom says you need a Plan B. Apply to a Jewish leader fellowship that night and power off for the day. Find out you are accepted. Feel like a cheese stick being pulled in many directions, yet strung.

9. Be told by fellowship you must accept by "X" date. Email reporter S.O.S. calls. Shout that this
Titanic
dream is sinking not on holiday! Accept fellowship at 11:59 p.m on "X" date.

11. Plot Twist: "Dear Eliana, I am pleased to inform you that you have been selected by the Philip Merrill College of Journalism to receive the Gene Roberts Award … This award provides travel reimbursement to undergraduate or graduate journalism students at Maryland to travel outside the U.S. on particular journalistic or research projects with a specific itinerary." COME FREAKIN ON!

12. Convince school to let you use the grant for winter instead. Do you have a reporting internship in the winter? Yes, mmhmm, of course. Get the "okay" and pull your face into
The Scream.

13. Get hit by a wall of silence from newspaper. Use Fellowship clout to get email of someone at the Israeli paper. Receive email hours later saying the position is all mine. Wonder who the hell the Fellowship led you to; discover it's the guy who started the paper.

15. Your editor Skypes you while she makes dinner. Chill. You'll be traveling all over Israel -- from Tel Aviv to Eilat, Jerusalem to Hermon -- going to concerts, plays, local events and more covering whatever's happening. Get pumped.

16. Locate a place to stay within a 10-minute walk. Check. Unlock Phone/buy SIM card. Check. Call for health insurance info. Learn what a deductible is for 30 minutes. Don't actually get what it is. Check?

18. Do what any seminary girl at heart does -- whip out your
Tehillim, empty your wallet into a
tzedekah
can, turn to the words of Rav Kook and Rav Solevechik. Bob your head to the tempo of scholars who say Am Yisrael is incomplete without Eretz Yisrael and "The Way of Hashem is ... to evaluate each situation and determine if it warrants a battle cry or a peace negotiation."

19. Prepare yourself by watching boxing videos and practicing your jabs and cuts. Again, again, until blisters on your raw knuckles pop peach. Buy a personal alarm. Purchase pepper spray. Have your boyfriend ask you what pepper spray is going to do when a terrorist stabs you from behind. Ignore the question and say you've been ramping up your push-ups. So, if you're mortally in danger and the attacker asks you to drop and give him 40, you'll be prepared.

20. Parents forbid you to go. They tell you reporting in a "war zone" is a suicide mission. They tell you they don't want to lose another daughter. Feel icy. Explain you can't live in someone else's shadow, because she no longer lives will not prevent you from living.

21. Cry until your nose bleeds.

Every day I am bombarded with mixed messages. The FBI issuesa warning not to travel outside the country, but my friends are taking the bus to school, my boss is meeting up with friends at the mall, at the movies. My boyfriend is swimming with dolphins in Eilat.

It feels like everything I worked toward was just a sandcastle made too close to the shore -- never really made to last. But more than my failure, there's this ineffable desire to return to Israel. Three years ago, almost to the day, I sat in my seminary bed with a Bar-Ilan application in my lap. But I listened to my parents, the good girl that I am, and told them I'll go to an American college on the condition that they wouldn't stop me from making
aliyah
after graduation. Their response: we'll help you pack your bags.

Now, I get this ash-in-my-mouth feeling that it was all lie. That no matter what, it's never going to be a good time to go to Israel. But that's the geo-political nature of Israel being sandwiched between enemies and the sea.

And you may think this is all stupid, that I'm making such a big deal about a 28-day internship to go to concerts and plays, but I see this as more than that. It's about a young woman who shows resistance not with a gun but with a pen; a young woman who's not about surviving but living; a young woman who is so passionate she cries blood.

It's the struggle of parents who love too much and a girl who is trying to love herself.

2015-12-29
]]>Don't Turn Awayhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27364&blogid=142
Regardless of what your family looks like gathered
around the dinner table, everyone needs to be talking about this.]]>Lindsey_22015-12-24T10:21:27ZAnnice Moses

The reality of what's been going on in Chicago has sunk in deep lately. People being murdered and beaten in the streets, dragged, handcuffed and TASER-ed -- it's unbelievable. Regardless of what your family looks like gathered around the dinner table, everyone needs to be talking about this.

Maybe they don't look like you. They don't look like me. The tragic statistics splashed day after day, the headlines, the graphic pictures and videos -- they are about black people suffering. And while my heart breaks, I recognize I have been granted a distance because I'm not black.

As a white person living where I live, I could pretend what's happening simply isn't happening. The sidewalks of my neighborhood look nothing like the streets of Chicago. Theoretically, I could just close my eyes to the whole disturbing mess. Except -- except for the conscience I was raised with would never allow me to turn a blind eye to the injustice and suffering of others.

My parents will admit they completely missed the boat in terms of raising me with a formal Jewish education, but they always said and continue to say, "We raised you with Jewish values. That's how you know you're truly Jewish." So here I am, with my Jewish conscience at its breaking point.

As Jews, our history knows the consequences of turned backs. The "not me, not mine" complacency allows for injustice and murder and everything in between. We can't just shake our heads and say, "What a travesty of justice! What a shame!" and think that changes anything. Well, I suppose we can. And this is where a fear begins to consume me. If "it" doesn't touch us, if the metallic taste of blood isn't in our mouths, are we forgetting?

As Jews, there is a thread between us and
any
people who are grouped in the pejorative and categorically denied, demoralized and disempowered. "Those" people are "us."

The difference is we can hide our "otherness" if we choose by tucking our Jewish symbols under our shirts. We can avoid being identified as Jews by putting our Jewishness on a hanger or by omitting our last names. We can walk down the street as if we are in the majority. Nobody need notice us if we don't want them to. We can hide. And hiding is seductive when things feel scary.

And things feel very scary right now, but we cannot hide in fear. We must be seen. We must join in the collective voices that demand justice. Because as Jews, we cannot ever, ever forget.

B' Shalom,

Annice

2015-12-24
]]>Bulls at a Crossroadshttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27361&blogid=142
It doesn't often happen that a team will fire a head coach with a .647 winning percentage and NBA Coach of the Year honors, but after five seasons and five straight playoff appearances cut short, the Bulls parted ways with Tom Thibodeau this off season and replaced with first-year head coach Fred Hoiberg. ]]>Lindsey_22015-12-23T14:48:44ZTeam struggling to find identity in the switch from Thibs to HoibergEric Burgher

It doesn't often happen that a team will fire a head coach with a .647 winning percentage and NBA Coach of the Year honors, but after five seasons and five straight playoff appearances cut short, the Bulls parted ways with Tom Thibodeau this off season and replaced him with first-year head coach Fred Hoiberg.

Despite grinding their way to the top of the Eastern Conference year after year under Thibs, many felt he pushed the players too hard, playing through injuries and logging 40-plus minutes in sometimes meaningless regular season games. His high standards and relentless style had worn on everyone, even the players who bought in completely.

Hoiberg was supposed to be the "anti-Thibs," and so far this season, the players agree. This was intended to be a good thing, but so far the results have not been there. Hoiberg was brought in to move toward an offense-focused game plan in a changing league modeled after high-volume scoring teams like the Golden State Warriors, but the Bulls rank near the bottom of the league in offensive efficiency (only the Nets, Lakers and 76ers are worse) as well as effective field goal percentage (tied with the 76ers, only the Grizzlies and Lakers are worse).

The relationship between Hoiberg and the players has also been edgy since the beginning, starting with moving Joakim Noah out of the starting line up in favor of Nikola Mirotic. Noah reportedly was very comfortable with this change and even approached Hoiberg about it because he was more comfortable playing with Taj Gibson anyway. This did not come as much of a surprise seeing as Noah has been a team-first pro since coming into the NBA, but it was later revealed that the move was not Noah's idea and he was just going along and looking on the bright side.

The most recent spat came last weekend in the form of a much more aggressive calling-out by team leader Jimmy Butler. Butler said that Hoiberg was not pushing the team hard enough or holding his players accountable. Although he later said he was not throwing his coach under the bus and that it was on everyone to push harder -- nobody was fooled.

This was a roster built for Thibodeau's style of play, with his work ethic embedded in the players' DNA. If Hoiberg's style was creating positive results maybe things would be different, but they are not.

Mirotic and Doug McDermott, who were placed in the starting lineup to lead the offensive attack, have struggled and have since been replaced by Gibson and Tony Snell -- stronger defensive players. The change in style along with a setback to Mike Dunleavy and Derrick Rose's double vision have led to a rare occurrence -- a team that returned 90 percent of its roster from last season is struggling to find chemistry.

Changes need to be made if the Bulls want to salvage this season. Noah is on contract a year. Pau Gasol is too and Rose's enormous contract has one more year after this one. Butler appears to be the only untouchable player on the roster, though if this rift continues, it may come down to him or Hoiberg.

The Bulls will never tank, it just isn't like them, but they don't appear to be going anywhere this season. It'll be interesting to see how active they are at the trade deadline considering they're already threatening the luxury tax threshold.

Hoiberg may turn out to be the right coach, but he is not the right coach for these players. If Hoiberg and Butler, who were both just signed to five-year contracts, aren't able to find common ground, this could end up being a bigger mess than anything that happened under Thibs, because even when things were at their most chaotic, the Bulls were still winning.

The biggest difference I have seen so far is that this Bulls team just doesn't seem to enjoy playing together. Even when the Bulls have been undermanned in the past, they were always fun to watch. But this Bulls team lacks identity and cohesiveness on both ends of the court.

Now is the time to sell high on some of their players like Noah, Gibson and even Rose. Lightening up their overloaded frontcourt will give more opportunities to rookie Bobby Portis and give them a chance to see if they actually do have players to build around in Mirotic and McDermott.

As of today, the Bulls sit in the No. 7 seed of a much-improved Eastern Conference. They have lost three straight games and 6 of their last 10, and finish out 2015 with a very difficult schedule including Oklahoma City, Dallas, Toronto and Indiana.

The Bulls' front office needs Hoiberg to turn things around. He is the sixth head coach in the last 10 years, not a great record for a general manager to have. If improvements aren't made across the board, we could see changes made at the top, and another potential period of misery like the one we saw in the early 2000s.

The Bulls are on the verge of a new era, and the next few months will determine what kind of era that is going to be.

2015-12-23
]]>Are Tech Startups Losing Their Charm?http://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27352&blogid=142
Just 15-20 years ago, tech startups were rare gems, and few were lucky enough to jump on the bandwagon.]]>Lindsey_22015-12-21T15:41:15ZLiz Kaydanovsky

"Tech" and "startup" are popular buzzwords. Use them together, and you've got "synergy," the crowned king of buzzwords. These words are like fuel to a flaming conversation, blazing with interest and hype.

Just 15-20 years ago, tech startups were rare gems, and few were lucky enough to jump on the bandwagon. Think Google, Amazon and the fashionably late -- yet my personal favorites -- Facebook and Instagram.

Like a rom-com, it's a roller-coaster of (market) sentiment full of the highest of highs and lowest of lows. Not all tech contenders could weather the deadly storms, the dot-com bubble and housing bubble (who knew bubbles were so dangerous?), and yet the chosen few prevailed. And after all these years, we stay enamored as ever with the idea of startups and even more enchanted with "tech startups."

So is it even fathomable to think that tech startups may be losing their charm? If so, why are these lovable underdogs becoming less lovable? Here are a few reasons I'm noticing:

Quantity over quality

The space feels saturated, claustrophobic even. Like Starbucks in the early 2000s, startups are popping up on every corner, each one sounding more promising than the last with a killer mission statement to boot.

But the market is free -- and so is the consumer -- to determine their fates. It's not all glamorous and there's a good reason actuaries have jobs. Numbers/stats/math don't lie: 92, I repeat,
92
percent of startups fail in the first three years.

And still, like the Gold Rush, hundreds of thousands flock to them. I'm beginning to wonder who doesn't work at a startup? Such a job is losing its exclusivity, and this deters some talent from joining the club. VIP status just doesn't feel the same anymore.

Talented people like to be taken care of, and companies feel pressure to up the ante on the swag they provide or need to create insane buzz around their business. To remain successful incubators for all this raw talent, it'll cost a pretty penny. It's not clear whether this is fortunate or unfortunate, but the bar sits high and pretty, which probably benefits us all in some way.

Today a start-up, tomorrow a giant

When you've got a great idea (and I mean a really great idea), the right tools (*cough*, capital, *cough*), and most importantly the right people (and lots and lots of luck), there's a sliver of hope a startup might materialize. But a startup is only as successful as the brevity of its startup status.

Look at it from any angle, but the fact remains that a startup is a true success when it is no longer considered a startup. Keeping that in mind, the fundamental goal of any tech startup is exponential growth (and revenue). To continue moving full-steam ahead, you lose room for the start-up culture, flexibility and appeal.

It's a hefty trade-off, but one that founders and VCs are game to make because for them, that means money. For you, the employee, that means fate at the hands of new management or possibly shareholders. The startup phase is a glamorous run, but it's short-lived.

Despite these three charm-busters, past and current tech startups are pretty much killing it right now (Tumblr, Spotify, Instagram, Snapchat etc.). In fact, they're young, and more popular and attractive than ever.

There's a lot to consider before joining a startup, but they're quite literally shaping our modern world. Tech startups are always on the leading edge of problem solving and innovation. Many people still consider being a part of one a privilege and honor; and if you find the right one, the sky's no longer the limit.

2015-12-21
]]>‘Star Wars’ with My Bride-To-Behttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27323&blogid=142
There is a period in every geek, nerd or dork’s life when he or she has to grow up. You still remain a geek, nerd or dork, of course, but growing up sort of happens. Things like meeting a special someone, for example, sort of happen. And unless you meet on the floor of a comic convention admiring each other’s cosplay outfits, the odds you will have to share whatever it is you geek, nerd or dork out over with that person.]]>Lindsey_22015-12-14T16:36:11ZFive things we learned watching 'Star Wars' togetherSteven Chaitman

There is a period in every geek, nerd or dork's life when he or she has to grow up. You still remain a geek, nerd or dork, of course, but growing up sort of happens. Things like meeting a special someone, for example, sort of happen. And unless you meet on the floor of a comic convention admiring each other's cosplay outfits, the odds you will have to share whatever it is you geek, nerd or dork out over with that person. It's a big moment in a relationship, because part of you knows inside that if they can't accept or learn to love whatever your geeky, nerdy or dorky obsession is, how can they possibly be the right one for you?

For a lot of men (or perhaps one should say "boys" in this instance), that obsession is
Star Wars. Okay, maybe it's not an obsession for everyone, but at one point in almost (most) every boy's life, he becomes crazy about
Star Wars. You might be inactive in your
Star Wars
fandom for a time, but that will never change how you feel about these movies, or how quickly you will defend them.

My obsession with
Star Wars
catapulted when I was about 10, a couple years before
Episode I
came out. I began reading
Star Wars
books, blew my allowance on
Star Wars
toys and even tried to orchestrate a
Star Wars
theatrical play with my classmates during recess in the fourth grade.

My love of
Star Wars
carried on naturally through the release of
Episode III
my senior year of high school, when I worked at the LEGO Store at the mall and sold countless
Star Wars
LEGO sets (and bought a few for myself, admittedly). I'm not as active in my love of the franchise anymore, but that has no bearing on my absolute love for the films, excitement for the new ones, and my total fan allegiance -- and I suspect many others feel the same way.

So if someone we know hasn't seen these movies, it's troubling -- deeply troubling. And if that someone is someone we might consider spending the rest of our lives with, that someone just has to like
Star Wars, or at least understand it and not dismiss or belittle it and its contributions to humanity's collective imagination.

An on-the-nose depiction of this sentiment appeared in the Season 4 premiere of
How I Met Your Mother,
in which the main character, Ted, learns that his then-fiancé has
never seen
Star Wars.
He says she has to watch it, and determines that if she doesn't like it, there's no way he can marry her. She endures the first film and doesn't like it, but she lies to Ted and tells his friend Marshall that she's prepared to pretend she likes it for the rest of her life. It's supposed to be sweet that she's willing to do this for Ted, but then they don't end up together.

The thought never occurred to me that I should probe into whether or not Mollie had seen
Star Wars, (I plan to marry her regardless, though it would be nice if she at least supported my
Star Wars
fandom), but then a couple of years ago, well before our engagement, she volunteered this confession, then suggested we watch all the movies together.

Wait, what?

Watch. All. The.
Star Wars. Movies? Together?

And she meant all six of them. She didn't even want to be spared of the prequel trilogy.

After a failed attempt (we watched just two right after she suggested the idea but then stopped), we got back on track to watch all six in advance of
The Force Awakens
coming out this week, like many of you are probably also doing right now.

When we told our friends and family that we were watching all the movies together, they all had one perfectly understandable question for us: What order will you watch them in?

In my mind, there was only one film that we would be starting with --
Episode IV: A New Hope. You have to experience it where it all began to understand the phenomenon. After discussion with my then-roommate -- my closest
Star Wars
brother in arms -- the kid I sat and built LEGO X-Wings and TIE Fighters with in his basement 16 years ago and who will be with me Thursday night for
The Force Awakens
-- suggested an order that he read about online: IV, V, I*, II, III, VI. (
Episode I
is optional). If you know the films, you know this order is truly inspired.

Before we started watching, I had to find out what Mollie knew already. She was familiar with character names like Luke Skywalker and Princess Leia, as well as Darth Vader. Also, Obi-Wan Kenobi was an alien. When I explained that he wasn't, I asked her to describe him. She called him a little guy who is like "the Dobby (from
Harry Potter) of
Star Wars."

Master Yoda has never heard a more debasing comparison.

I also had to take a moment to silently curse pop culture when she told me that she knew Darth Vader's "secret." The line "I am your father" had become such a canonized movie quote, thereby ruining one of the greatest twists in movie history for those who barely know anything about
Star Wars
-- and don't speak German ("vader" means "father"). There was another twist she didn't know about, but had it ruined by the surge in
Star Wars
posts on Facebook just before she was set to discover it. I was devastated; the payoff would've been huge given the order we were watching the movies in.

All that aside, I was intrigued at what she would be drawn to, what her takeaways would be, what her perceptions of the characters and other elements of the story would be, and how well the film would hold up over 35 years to someone who has seen similar things that are more visually impressive, someone who no longer has a completely unblemished child-like sense of wonder.

So I took her on as my padowan learner to begin our journey to a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. As of this writing, we still have
Return of the Jedi
left, but here are the big takeaways from the experience thus far:

Be patient with someone who has never seen
Star Wars

Like, really patient. Mollie has no idea how children are able to follow these story lines. The prequels especially are full of political intrigue and power moves. If you start to ask yourself why stuff is happening in these movies, you will end up confused. The action/interesting parts of
Star Wars
often overshadow or distract from the details.

Plot aside, there are also 500 kinds of aliens, planets and spaceships in this franchise. Mollie could not tell the good guys from the bad half the time, which becomes even harder to do in
Episodes II
and
III. I took for granted that I had spent my whole childhood learning what things names were through books, toys and whatever else. Not once in the movie (I'm pretty sure) is an AT-AT, for example, called an AT-AT. They're called Imperial walkers. How did I learn that?? Unless you engulf yourself in the mythology of the
Star Wars
universe, you will be confused, so you need to be patient with someone who has no concept of these things.

Star Wars
has a lot of religious and philosophical ideas

As a social worker, Mollie pointed out throughout the films moments that Jedi wisdom sounded awfully similar to concepts in social work, but she also noticed that the Force is an analogy for God, or a divine presence. Her keenest observation was that in the same way the Force can be used for good or evil, so can divine belief, such as what we see today with religious extremism.

It's easy to criticize the
Star Wars
films for thematic simplicity, and take credit away from George Lucas' genius for choosing to focus on basic platitudes of good and evil rather than moral complexity. But there's universality in these ideas, and what makes
Star Wars
have such broad appeal is this focus on fundamentals.

Darth Vader is the main character of the entire
Star Wars
saga

If you've never thought of this before, then watch the films either in episode order or the IV, V, I, II, III, VI order we chose. Obviously the prequels are all about how Anakin Skywalker becomes Darth Vader, but when you weave them with the original films, you see that the whole series is about him all along. In fact, Mollie wishes we could watch IV and V again now that we've seen all the prequels and she knows the man behind the Darth Vader helmet, and I would agree. It's illuminating, frankly, and it makes me all the more interested in the direction of
Episode VII
and the films to come in terms of how they will fit with the overall saga's arc and themes

R2-D2 and C3PO are the heart and soul of
Star Wars

The misadventures of everyone's favorite astro and protocol droids often distract from the exciting parts of
Star Wars, but they represent everything that's lovable about these movies. (Chewbacca too, I should say.) Without them,
Star Wars
would be kind of hollow, maybe even arrogant. I could tell Mollie was keeping tabs on them, and enjoyed the many ways they pop in and out of the six movies, even if sometimes out of nowhere.

There are a lot of bad components in
Star Wars , but …

I love the movies and I will defend even
Episode I, but you notice a lot of bad storytelling choices in all six films, even if you are new to the series like Mollie (unless you're a kid). Romance, character development, dialogue, transitions -- George Lucas is not a brilliant filmmaker he's just an incredibly imaginative one who knows how to inspire his audience and that sticking to the fundamentals of storytelling and universal ideas is how you create a pop-culture phenomenon.

2015-12-14
]]>Life Lessons from My Toddlerhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27318&blogid=142
It’s true what they say about our kids: we learn more from them than we will ever teach them. Every day that I spend with my 18-month-old son is not only a lesson on how I can be a better parent, but how I can just be a better person.]]>Lindsey_22015-12-10T11:42:13ZEverything I ever needed to know I learned from my 18-Month-OldAndy Kirschner

It's true what they say about our kids: we learn more from them than we will ever teach them. Every day that I spend with my 18-month-old son is not only a lesson on how I can be a better parent, but how I can just be a better person. Here are just a few things that I have learned from watching, parenting, and loving our little toddler, Johnny.

1. You don't need to know the words to sing along.

At 18 months, Johnny's vocabulary is expanding every day. He isn't exactly expressive enough to be reciting Shakespeare, but he has reached a stage of development in which he still wants to engage in the rhythm of conversation.

We have caught him many times pointing at objects going "DUHH, OOO, Nee" as if he is counting without knowing the words for numbers or fully grasping the concepts behind numbers. On other occasions he will babble along to music that is either played on the radio in the car or that we are singing to him. Again, he doesn't know the words, but he knows that that only way to learn the language is to fail at it until he gets it right.

Too often in my adult life I have hesitated because I didn't feel fully prepared. I have held back because I didn't think I knew all of what was required of me. I have chosen not to start because I didn't know if I could do it perfectly. Johnny has reminded me that it's okay to get it wrong the first few times in order to practice. With practice I can make perfect, if I only dare to start practicing.

2. Most stress goes away with a hug and a kiss

Adults and kids both get riled up about the littlest things. Just the other day, we witnessed a complete meltdown because we didn't want Johnny using his fork to stir the milk in his cup. He was literally crying over spilt milk! … Or I guess the fact that we stopped him from spilling the milk.

In the midst of this, my wife picks him up, holds him in her arms, and kisses the top of his head. The tears stopped flowing and he let out a big sigh. I brought him a bottle of milk, which he took, and the tantrum was over.

Kids trip, fall and scream all of the time. Being a toddler is frustrating because as cognitive abilities grow, the words and physical abilities to express them do not always develop at the same rate. Being a young person in this world is like being the new person at work. Everything takes longer, you don't fully understand the language and culture at the office and you can't figure out where they hide all the supplies you need to do your job.

At the end of some of our very stressful days, maybe in lieu of a freak-out, perhaps it would be better to find someone who can hold us, or provide us with affection.

3. What makes us most happy is when we are all together with those we love most

We were in Italy, for a week, which meant a week away from Johnny, who stayed with his grandparents. As he was playing with his toys on our first morning back home, he came over to me, pulled my leg and dragged me over to join him. He moved a pillow in just the right place for me to sit next to him. Standing up after only a moment, he rushed back to my wife and grabbed her arm to come as well. She joined us by the pillow and we all sat there together on the floor.

Johnny started laughing, giggling uncontrollably as if he had just received some life-changing news. He was ecstatic just to be sitting with the people he loved most -- Mom and Dad. That was the moment in his day that brought him the most joy after being apart from us for a whole week.

I find myself searching for so many ways to entertain us and make our moments seem more special. I buy things, I take us places and I schedule activities. It's hard not to get caught up in all the things at my disposal that I might consume or do. Johnny reminds me that if I really just want to be happy, I have everything -- or everyone -- right there. I just need to make the time to sit down with them.

4. Whenever you hear music, just dance!

For Johnny, where there is music there is dancing. Last weekend, a new Chanukah compilation was an opportunity to grab a giant stuffed bear and trot around the living room. Even a phone ringing or alarm buzzing has enough of a beat for Johnny to start moving. Music brings such joy and helps him find new ways to wiggle his tiny body. The more he dances, the more he smiles and shrieks with delight.

At first I used to wonder how he had such great rhythm. Clearly, he couldn't have gotten it from either of his parents. (True story: we actually both hurt ourselves taking a beginners salsa lesson because we were so out of sync with the music.) But then, when I really thought about it, I wondered if we just lost that rhythm somewhere along the way, because unlike Johnny, we got scared about how we looked or what people might think. With that realization, I found myself eager to join my little one in his dancing escapades and found out what was making him so happy.

5. Run, don't walk through life.

We always like to tell people that Johnny never learned to walk; he learned to run first and figured out how to slow down later. A lot of kids love nothing more than to find a big open field, a long sidewalk or huge playground with space to just ratchet those little legs up to top speed. It's exhausting to keep up with and also inspiring to know how fearlessly fast this little one wants to go.

My life moves fast. Every moment is truly gone before I have a chance to know it even existed. I can either choose to work against nature and fight to slow it down or jump on the rollercoaster and move at the speed of life. With that notion, I am most grateful I have my baby boy in front of me, leading the charge.

2015-12-10
]]>Vegan Creamy Mashed Sweet Potatoeshttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27312&blogid=142
I happen to love Thanksgiving -- a lot; the family, the loud laughter and the food. Ohhh the food!]]>Lindsey_22015-12-09T14:57:08ZMila Furman

I happen to love Thanksgiving --
a lot; the family, the loud laughter and the food. Ohhh the food!

When I do a holiday party there are
a lot
of people at my house. The tables are breaking at the rims with food and liquor and the house aches to break at the seams with all the laughter and chatter. It is always a good time and everyone always leaves with full bellies and big smiles.

This year my cousin and I had decided to combine our Thanksgivings into one. They have a beautiful house that actually has a gigantic basement complete with a fancy bar and a second kitchen. So cooking up a storm in that house was awesome.

When we started talking about the menu for the 20-some people attending the Thanksgiving feast this year it hit me …
what am I going to eat? No really? I mean, so many side dishes for Thanksgiving either are full of dairy or are laden with meat products. And my mashed potatoes; I literally LOVE mashed potatoes, creamy and delicious in all their glory. I could eat an entire bowl (and have).

And let me tell you … I love my family but if I even started telling them, particularly the men, that they are eating vegan they would sit me down and explain what a freak I am and how I am depriving my body of protein and how I need to be institutionalized. (Funny story: I was informed by someone that the Russian radio had a debate about vegan vs omnivore eating and that the World Health Organization said that vegans are clinically insane. Don't these people have cancer and diabetes to worry about?)

Anyhow … my goal for this year was to create ridiculously delicious food that just so happens to be vegan or at the very least vegetarian. And then at the end I will scream out "SURPRISE, you have been punked! This is VEGAN!!!" Or not … because then I really would be a lunatic.

Anyhow … these mashed sweet potatoes were born one night when I found four large sweet potatoes in my pantry looking sad and lonely. It happened to be the same night that I was making my
Panera copycat vegan butternut squash soup and I was inspired by the magic ingredient in the soup that makes it so unbelievably creamy: coconut milk.

Chef note: When I talk about coconut milk I am talking about the stuff in a can, not in the cartons next to the milk. That stuff is thinned out and watered down and while it is good as a drink, it is not for cooking or to add creaminess to dishes.

After the potatoes were boiled, I drained them really well.

Chef note: No one wants soggy mashed potatoes. Water and cream do not mix. Drain them really well in a colander so they are nice and dry.

I added a bit of vegan butter once the potatoes were cooked and some coconut milk as well as a secret ingredient I use in my Crazy Creamy Mashed Potatoes
-- sour cream (except this time I used vegan sour cream). I added a very good pinch of salt and pepper and some fresh thyme. Then I whizzed it up in my mixer. I think this was imperative as it really got the taters nice and creamy.

Chef note: Check out my super special make-ahead tip in the notes of the recipe.

The result? It was FANTASTIC. Hubs loved it. And he was in disbelief how creamy and delish they were without all that cream and butter.

Although Thanksgiving is long gone, there's still plenty of time to take advantage of these taters in your winter menu.

1. Rinse the potatoes well as they tend to hold onto some of the dirt even after they are peeled.

2. Add to a large pot and fill completely with water. Bring to a boil, lower to a simmer and cook until knife tender -- when a knife goes into the potatoes smoothly.

3. Drain in a colander. This step is crucial because you want to get as much water out of the potatoes as possible.

4. Now add BACK into the pot that the potatoes were in. The pot will now be dry because the residual heat will have dried it up. If not, then just wipe the access water out with a paper towel before adding in the potatoes.*

5. Add the remaining ingredients into the pot with the potatoes. Now add this point you can either use a hand mixer, a stand mixer or a plain masher to get everything smoothed out.

6. Taste for salt and pepper and season accordingly.

7. Before serving, swirl in some coconut milk on the very top and sprinkle with thyme.

Notes

1. Use the coconut milk from the can NOT the cartons. Stir up the liquid and the solids in the can so that it is completely combined. This will give you the perfect texture.

2. Removing thyme leaves is super simple! With one hand hold the top of the stem and with the other hand just slide your hand down the stem to remove the little leaves and voila, de-stemmed!

3. Personally I get the creamiest outcome when I use my stand mixer with the whip attachment. However, hand mixers work just as well. And when you are in a pinch for time, the hand masher will do just fine.

4. Make ahead tip: You can cut up your potatoes and store them in your pot of water up to 2 days ahead of time. Then once your potatoes are cooked. Drain them and keep them in your pot. Right before your guests come, heat up the remaining ingredients until they are melted through and add to the potatoes. You will have perfect creamy potatoes that are gorgeously warmed through!

2015-12-09
]]>The Guide to Giving Gift Cardshttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27308&blogid=142
If you should ever have to give me a gift for any reason -- be it this week’s holiday of Chanukah, my birthday, perhaps an anniversary, or maybe even a very futuristic Mothers Day -- I hereby henceforth declare my written permission for you to purchase for me a gift card.]]>Lindsey_22015-12-07T15:49:27ZLia (Lehrer) Goldfarb

Dear Reader,

If you should ever have to give me a gift for any reason -- be it this week's holiday of Chanukah, my birthday, perhaps an anniversary, or maybe even a very futuristic Mothers Day -- I hereby henceforth declare my written permission for you to purchase for me a gift card.

Here's the part where you gasp. "A gift card?! What an impersonal gift!"

But I'll repeat: You have been granted my official permission (is anyone out there a notary?) to get me a gift card and call it a day. And yes, believe it or not, this can even apply to husbands and mothers.

When it comes to gifts, I can see how I may be difficult to shop for. I'm usually at least a season behind the rest of the fashion world, I'm pretty particular about jewelry (I like silver but I'm not a huge fan of gold), and I like dollars but I don't like any scents (get it?). For whatever reason you're buying me a gift, I am so grateful, and the last thing I would want to do would be to stress you out.

A gift card to one of my favorite stores (Or really any store! I can find something anywhere!) is a nice way to put your gift to good use. As my personal shopping budget comes up a bit shy of the million-dollar mark, these gift cards come in handy to update my closet with more recent fashion or the latest gadget.

I do understand, though, the need for wanting to make a gift more "personal." A gift card may be construed as cold or lacking in creativity. But if you're feeling a case of "gift card giving blah," here are a few ways to make a gift card gift shine a bit more like you.

Be creative in your choice of gift card store. Maybe you've heard that I like scarves (it's true!) and you have a favorite scarf store. I'd love to try a new store, and a gift card is a wonderful incentive.

Pair the gift card with a related gift. My mom used to get people gift cards to Blockbuster (RIP) along with a couple packs of popcorn, and I thought it was the cutest thing. What about a gift card to Old Navy on top of a fun pair of mittens? Or a gift card to a sports store with a nice water bottle?

Wrap the gift card in a big box. It's fun to unwrap a piano-sized box shrouded in paper reminiscent of the Fourth of July. It's even more fun to find a little box inside of a big box. Make me work for the gift card. Heck, send me on a scavenger hunt around the neighborhood to make me find the gift card.

Write me a poem. You can include a thoughtful, creative card with your gift! Make a collage of pictures and memories of us. Scrape up your sonnet-writing skills or write about how I'm L ively, I nteresting, and A ctive. Your creativity in the card is worth more than the gift.

So, use this guide to the gift card when thinking about what to get me or other people. Happy Chanukah, happy birthday, happy anniversary, happy Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, and happy Monday!

2015-12-07
]]>For the love of fried foodhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27304&blogid=142
Every year, friends and family gather to celebrate the miracle of an event that happened in ancient times. After the Maccabian revolt, there was only enough oil in the temple to last one day. Miraculously, it lasted eight. All around the world, Jews gather to celebrate the holiday for eight days. We also gather to eat, for what would a Jewish holiday be without food?]]>Lindsey_22015-12-04T14:59:04ZLaura Frankel

Every year, friends and family gather to celebrate the miracle of an event that happened in ancient times. After the Maccabian revolt, there was only enough oil in the temple to last one day. Miraculously, it lasted eight. All around the world, Jews gather to celebrate the holiday for eight days. We also gather to eat, for what would a Jewish holiday be without food?

The holiday commemorates the oil lasting for eight days and to honor that, we Jews celebrate by eating amazing, crispy, crunchy, delicious foods fried in oil. We certainly know how to party!

Latkes
(potato pancakes) and
sufganiyot (jelly donuts) are central players in many celebrations. I love
latkes
and oh, how I love me some donuts! But making
latkes
for a party also means making a main dish and then a main dish leads to sides (latkes are the starch; I mean a veggie side) and then there is a salad and then maybe an appetizer etc… you can see where this is going. Before you know it, you are cooking for days and that is only for one of eight festive nights!

But, what if there was a dish that was all inclusive? What if your dish could be the main, the side, the everything? I am thinking about a delicious platter of crunchy, and satisfying Fried Fish and Chips. I simply crave fish and chips. They are the answer to my holiday quest for Jewish comfort fried food.

It is not random that I am planning my fried fest to include savory fish and chips. Fried fish is actually Jewish in origin. Marrano Jews dipped their fish in egg and bread crumbs and fried it. The "chip" part of the dish came later. The first fish and chip shop was founded by an Ashkenazi Jew in 1860 and the rest is history.

This year for Chanukah, I am celebrating a true Jewish food and by munching and crunching my way through Fish and Chips.

1. Place ice and water in a large bowl. Fit a mixing bowl into the ice water (this step will yield a light and delicate batter).

2. Whisk all the ingredients for the batter together over the ice. The batter can be made one hour ahead of frying and should be kept on ice.

3. Pat dry the fish and set aside.

4. Slice the potatoes, skin on, into wedges about 1 inch thick and place in cold water.

5. Heat the oil in a large heavy-duty saucepan to 320 degrees.

6. Dry the potatoes completely and fry them in batches until they are opaque and limp. Transfer the par-cooked potatoes to a sheet pan lined with paper towels or a brown paper bag (helps to sop up the oil).

7. Increase the heat until the oil reaches 360 and add the potatoes. Fry the potatoes until they are golden brown and crispy. Transfer to a lined pan. Keep the potatoes warm in the oven.

8. Dredge the fish in the cornstarch and then into the batter. Fry the fish in batches until golden brown and crispy. Transfer the fish to a lined platter and keep warm in the oven.

1. Cut open the vanilla bean lengthwise. Using the back of a knife, scrape along the inside of the vanilla bean to collect the seeds. Scrape vanilla bean seeds into a small bowl. Add the ½ cup sugar and cinnamon and stir to combine. Set aside.

2. In a medium saucepan combine the butter, salt, 3 tablespoons of sugar, and water over medium heat. Bring to a boil. Take pan off the heat and stir in the flour. Return pan to the heat and stir continuously until mixture forms a ball, about 3 to 5 minutes.

3. Transfer the flour mixture to a medium bowl or the work bowl of a stand mixer. Using a mixer, add eggs, one at a time, incorporating each egg completely before adding the next. Beat until smooth. If not frying immediately, cover with plastic wrap and reserve in the refrigerator for up to 1 day.

4. Pour enough oil into a large frying pan to reach a depth of 2 inches. Heat the oil over medium heat until a deep fry thermometer registers 375 degrees Fahrenheit.

5. Using a small ice cream scoop or two small spoons, carefully drop about a tablespoon of the dough into the hot olive oil, frying in batches. Turn the zeppole once or twice, cooking until golden and puffed up, about five minutes. Drain on paper towels. Toss with cinnamon and sugar. Arrange on a platter and serve immediately.

2015-12-04
]]>8 Jewish Lights unto the Worldhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27300&blogid=142
There is an interesting account written by Clearchus, a student of Aristotle, telling of when Aristotle was confronted by a Jewish sage. The sage (unnamed) had come to test Aristotle’s renowned knowledge and insights. However, according to Clearchus, Aristotle was the one who left impressed by the sage’s knowledge and insights. ]]>Lindsey_22015-12-03T11:59:01ZJewish contributions you may not have thought ofJoshua Marder

There is an interesting account written by Clearchus, a student of Aristotle, telling of when Aristotle was confronted by a Jewish sage. The sage (unnamed) had come to test Aristotle's renowned knowledge and insights. However, according to Clearchus, Aristotle was the one who left impressed by the sage's knowledge and insights.

When we hear the names, "Aristotle, Plato, and Socrates," we feel admiration and wonder at those great wise men. When we hear the names, "Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob," it doesn't seem to have the same effect. Perhaps that's because we don't realize what they have contributed.

So, for this Chanukah, in honor of the eight nights of light, here are eight great leaders of the Jewish people with one contribution each (though they have given plenty more) to the world as we know it. And as the "Relationships Rabbi," I'm going to take a view on these contributions from a relationships perspective.

1. Joseph

As a young man of only 17 years, Joseph was abandoned by his brethren and painfully sold to slavery. He found himself emotionally and physically destitute, eventually sold to a wealthy Egyptian man, Potiphar. Potiphar's beautiful wife takes a liking to Joseph and consistently attempts to seduce him. He was alone, forsaken by his family, in a foreign country, living as a slave. He had every excuse in the book to give up on his integrity. And yet he refused. This commitment to morality, especially marital morality, has been, and unfortunately still is, a lesson for civilization to continue to learn from.

2. Aaron

Known throughout Jewish literature as, "The Seeker of Peace," Aaron was a very holy man. One of his first "cameos" in the Bible is when he heard his younger brother, Moses, was going to become the leader of the nation. Their father, Amram, had also been the leader of the nation. It would make the most sense that Aaron, a man of great scholarship and wisdom who is also the oldest in the family, would follow in that role. However, his brother was Divinely declared as the leader. What was his reaction? Indignation? Remorse? Frustration? It is beautifully and succinctly stated, "His heart rejoiced." The joy for others and their accomplishments to trump our expectations for ourselves is a profound lesson in relationships.

3. Rebecca

As a stranger came to town with his long entourage of servants and camels, he went to the well to fill up on water after a long journey. Not knowing who he was or what he was there for, Rebecca offered him, his servants and his camels water. (And camels drink a lot of water!) The great lesson of honoring and taking care of others is beautifully exemplified by our matriarch.

4. King David

Arguably the greatest leader of all times, King David was a powerhouse -- a genius beyond comprehension and mastermind at war, poetry, scholarship and governing. Yet he was never apprehensive to admit to making a mistake. We learn the essence of admitting to our mistakes, learning from them and repenting to change for the future from our great beloved leader, King David.

5. Moses

As the receptor of the Divine word to be brought to the entire nation of the Jewish people and eventually to the world, there doesn't seem to be a more honorable and esteemed position ever to exist. And yet the Bible's one description of Moses' character is simply, "the most humble of all men." His recognition of the greatness of every human being and their Divine soul was why he was charged with the great task of bearing the Divine word to the world. And his great accomplishment of character development is perhaps one of the greatest lessons that he taught us.

6. Rachel

After meeting the love of her life, her sister was snuck under the
chuppah
instead. Did she cry out? Did she tell her beloved fiancé that she will seemingly never be able to bond with him? No. Out of deep empathy to her sister's shame, she did not speak up. To reach such a profound level of empathy even in the midst of our own emotional pain is something we dream of. Our matriarch embodied it, lived it and taught it to us.

7. Joshua

He assumed leadership of the Jewish people after Moses. What were his great qualifications? We know he was close to Moses and learned from him regularly. We also know he was Divinely declared for the position. However, what is interesting to note, is the description of his merit to this position. Jewish literature relates that he would clean up after everyone in the study halls. He made sure everything was taken care of behind the scenes. No one was watching. He saw the need for the community to have this taken care of, and so he took it upon himself to do that. He exemplifies the concept of looking at the community and seeking what needs to get done, with no self-aggrandizement or gratification taken into account.

8. Matityahu

And for the final relationship insight, we'll talk about the Maccabees. Imagine a world without marital allegiance, empathy, altruistic communal concerns, a willingness and desire to amend mistakes, kindness to strangers ... The Maccabees knew the great wisdom of those listed above and much more was at stake when the Greeks attempted to Hellenize the Jewish people. They recognized that there is wisdom and meaning beyond what is scientifically quantifiable. Their victory proved it, as a few farmers defeated the world's greatest army. They were willing to fight and die for the sake of a spiritual existence that goes beyond the physical reality.

Jewish people, stand proud! You have contributed and continue to tribute great light unto the world! Happy Chanukah!

2015-12-03
]]>When do I add paprika?—and other questions for a Jewish motherhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27291&blogid=142
While cleaning out the closet of my childhood home over the fall holidays, I dug up a tattered cookbook made from construction paper and crayon. The recipes, created by my fellow Jewish preschool classmates and me back in the 1980s, weren't exactly of Julia Child's "Beef Bourguignon" caliber.]]>Lindsey_22015-12-02T10:25:16ZCindy Sher

While cleaning out the closet of my childhood home over the fall holidays, I dug up a tattered cookbook made from construction paper and crayon. The recipes, created by my fellow Jewish preschool classmates and me back in the 1980s, weren't exactly of Julia Child's "Beef Bourguignon" caliber.

No, this collection read more like a humor book than a cookbook. One recipe was for popcorn calling for extra "drops of apple juice." The ingredients for the spaghetti and meatballs specified exactly "90 noodles."

And my recipe for "corned beef sandwiches" took the cake. It read: "She (I'm assuming my mom was the "she") buys corned beef at the store. Then she takes it off the wax paper. Then she puts it on a plate. She gives us bread too."

My contribution to the book was an odd selection because my mother is a wonderful home cook and baker, but for some reason her simple deli sandwich prep was the meal that stuck out in my preschool mind, the one I thought merited saving for posterity.

Each child wrote his or her cooking instructions in the third person -- usually referencing a mother or an occasional dad or grandma preparing each step of the recipe.

There's something so Jewish about that amateur cookbook. The compilation sparked for us children, barely out of the womb, our introduction to thinking and talking about food -- and really does it get more Jewish than that?

Whether its roast chicken on Shabbat, blintzes and kugel for Yom Kippur break-fast, or, heck, Chinese food on Christmas, food is a core value for us -- along with Torah, family, and acts of loving kindness. As the old joke goes, when our people aren't currently eating, we're usually planning for our next meal.

The cookbook is a Jewish artifact in another way too. The recipes were passed down to us from our families-our parents and grandparents and those that came before them. From one generation to another -- l'dor v'dor -- these recipes link our family tree from past to present to future. It's the power of Jewish continuity -- in culinary form.

My great-grandmother taught my grandma the recipes back in a tiny shtetl in Belarus, and my grandma, in turn, recorded the recipes either in her mind or on paper, and then taught them to my mother in America. My mother, then, passed them down to my sister and me when we were growing up.

As in so many other homes, my mom would employ her children as pint-sized sous chefs in the kitchen. We little ones always got the fun jobs, mixing ingredients with a big spoon, dipping our noses into the vanilla to smell the sweet, singular scent, and rolling out the dough for sugar cookies in the shape of dreidels, Haman hats, and shofars. Today, my nephews are the sous chefs, and maybe someday, I'll instruct my own children in how to prepare those same recipes, where we'll read the directions together on the next iteration of the iPad.

Now that I'm all grown up, my mom is still transmitting her culinary knowledge to me. I'll often call her up for guidance on recipes. From the aisles of a Jewel or Hungarian, I'll ask her random questions: Can I substitute broth for stock? Can Greek yogurt be used in place of sour cream? When do I add paprika? I swear half the time I know the answers -- or at least Google or Siri do -- but it's just comforting and familiar to hear her on the other end of the line.

There's a paradox in chatting on a 21st century smartphone, while keeping alive these old family recipes -- and, with them, keeping alive a special piece of my grandparents and great-grandparents. We're honoring the legacy and wisdom of our loved ones who came before us -- pulling parts of our Jewish families out of the past and into the present day.

On that same weekend last fall when I discovered that silly little cookbook, my mother, sister, and I prepared Shabbat dinner for the rest of our family. And just like when we were growing up -- only this time around my sister and I are taller than my mom and there's more wine involved -- we treasure these recent moments too.

That evening, we made chilled cherry soup, London broil, potatoes, challah, and brownies. As we whisked, seasoned, chopped, muddled, and sipped, we gabbed about everything -- work, the presidential race, Kabbalah, family resemblance, relationships, and more.

The cooking set the backdrop for our bonding. Those old recipes -- in our home and millions of other Jewish homes around the world -- have seen it all. They've traveled a long way in miles and years -- by train, boat, and plane -- often one of the few treasures to survive pogroms and war.

The recipes, for kugel, mandel bread, charoset, and more, serve as a constant in our volatile Jewish history -- a witness at our Shabbat and holiday tables to our conversations, songs, tears, and laughter, a witness to our Jewish story.

2015-12-02
]]>CHI to NYC: My Chanukah Miraclehttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27281&blogid=142
Every Chanukah we are reminded of the phrase “nes gadol hayah sham” -- “a great miracle happened there,” and we celebrate the various miracles of Chanukah. But as I’m writing this from my new apartment in New York City, I’m thankful for a different type of miracle, and the “there” in this case is a little more complicated.]]>Lindsey_22015-12-01T14:38:24ZAdam J. Miller

Every Chanukah we are reminded of the phrase
"nes gadol hayah sham" -- "a great miracle happened there," and we celebrate the various miracles of Chanukah. But as I'm writing this from my new apartment in New York City, I'm thankful for a different type of miracle, and the "there" in this case is a little more complicated.

I called Chicago home for a long time, but after two of the most stressful months of my career, I miraculously made the move to the Big Apple; to a neighborhood I've been wanting to live for more than a year and a half.

On a cold Friday night in February 2014, I went to a Modern Orthodox synagogue called Ohab Zedek on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, a shul known as the go-to place for young professionals on Friday nights. As I waited for Kabbalat Shabbat services to begin, at least 300 20-somethings filled the shul, and after services, 95th Street became the scene of an impromptu singles' event.

Finally, I understood why my college friends -- and a number of articles -- kept referring to the Upper West Side was "a scene." I'd never seen anything close to this in Chicago, and all I knew was that I wanted to be a part of it.

It's safe to call New York the Jewish capital of America, and I've heard there are more observant, single 20- and 30-somethings there than there are in the rest of the country combined. Chances are if you talk to a young Modern Orthodox Jew living in the city from out of state, they'll tell you that these numbers are the number one reason they're living here.

It also goes without saying that keeping kosher and finding a synagogue that matches your belief system is infinitely easier here than anywhere else. Looking for some kosher meat late on a Saturday night? No chance if you live in Lakeview. Milt's (the only option) closes well before midnight. On the Upper West Side, a burger or shawarma is a stone's throw away -- even at 3 a.m.

But when I came back to Chicago after that eye-opening trip, I suddenly found my heart in two places. On one hand, I enjoyed the life I've made for myself in the Lakeview community. And the idea of paying double in rent for half the space was certainly a hard pill to swallow.

So for nearly a year and a half, I flirted with the idea of moving and visited nearly a half-dozen times, but never actually made the move and constantly made excuses for why I couldn't. I had a cool job working for a hot bourbon brand, a spacious apartment and, most recently, a summer romance I thought could last. Moving was a nice idea to fantasize over, I convinced myself, but a far cry from reality -- or so I thought.

In August, everything went downhill. That summer romance suddenly ended; what I thought was a dream job started becoming less and less of a fit and I could tell it was mutual. By October, I was let go. Feeling like I had been punched in the gut but like nothing was holding me back, I finally made the decision. Despite my lack of connections, the seemingly impossible logistics of moving in the winter and five months left on my Chicago lease, I decided it was time to go for it and move to New York.

I'm not sure if divine miracles happen anymore, but what followed certainly felt like one. Two weeks after I made my decision, I headed to New York with five interviews and a big dream to live. By the time I came back to Chicago, I had an offer that I ended up taking.

But that was only the first miracle I needed. Next, I had to find an apartment for Dec. 1, which is the worst possible time to find roommates, and that was on top of finding someone to sublet my Chicago room for five months. To add to the degree of difficulty, I needed to find someone who keeps kosher -- something you can't easily find through airbnb or craigslist.

But in the 11th hour, everything fell into place. I found an apartment just a half a block from the ideal train to get me to work, found a third roommate and someone to take over my sublease at close to full price all in the span of three weeks.

As we light the menorah in celebration of Chanukah, the message of believing in miracles even during times of immense adversity still ring true today. When I light the candles this year from my new apartment in New York, I'll be reminded of how one of my biggest disappointments led to the start of a new opportunity in a place where I've wanted to be for so long.

May this year's Chanukah lights inspire us to be extra ambitious and strive for the seemingly impossible. No matter how big the challenge, may this be the year we are fortunate to receive miracles beyond our wildest dreams.

From New York to Chicago and beyond,
chag sameach.

2015-12-01
]]>Dustin Fleischer: An Interview with Boxing’s White Tigerhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27277&blogid=142
Dustin Fleischer, a.k.a. “The White Tiger” is a welterweight professional boxer and the grandson of a Holocaust survivor. Since his professional debut at Madison Square Garden back in January, Fleischer has gone undefeated in five matches.]]>Lindsey_22015-11-30T14:33:43ZJeremy Fine

Dustin Fleischer, a.k.a. "The White Tiger" is a welterweight professional boxer and the grandson of a Holocaust survivor. Since his professional debut at Madison Square Garden back in January, Fleischer has gone undefeated in five matches.

1. Tell us a little bit about yourself.

I would consider myself a regular guy. Boxing is my passion and my job. I am blessed to have the opportunity to have a job that is my biggest passion. Outside the ring, I am a big animal-lover. I live in a beach town so I hang out at the beach all summer. Other than that, I enjoy hanging out with friends.

2. What got you into boxing?

I started doing martial arts when I was five years old as a response to being bullied in school. The art of fighting came naturally to me. The requirements to be successful, such as discipline, focus and confidence, were what grabbed hold of my attention at that young age. My father was a boxer and took me to the gym with him. I remember watching him spar that day, and I wanted to get in the ring immediately after. I stayed with martial arts until I was about nine years old. Then, I got into boxing. However, I stay under the guidance of my sensei John Gaddy today.

3. What are your boxing goals?

I want to be the first world champion related to a Holocaust survivor. I want to be a fighter that people talk about long after I retire from the sport. When I was a kid, my father and I would watch fighters like Ricky Hatton, Yuri Foreman and Oscar De La Hoya. We would learn from each different style that they had. I would like to be a fighter that possesses both greatness and a unique style, which each of those fighters had. I would like to see a father -- who's also a trainer -- sit with his son -- who's also a fighter. Lastly, I want to learn from myself.

4. What does being the grandson of a Holocaust survivor mean to you?

It gives me a sense of confidence and strength that I can't imagine any other fighter has. It is an edge that I possess over competition that I feel does not. The odds my grandfather overcame to survive concentration camps and become part of the Jewish resistance group makes me determined to achieve my dream of becoming a World Champion.

5. What was your Madison Square Garden experience like?

It was unreal. It was my first professional bout, and I was on one of the biggest stages in the world. I never approach a fight scared, but I always have some nervousness. However, the nerves make me better because they give me extra energy, agility and sharpness, physically and mentally. It is hard to put into words the feeling you get after the sacrifice of countless hours of training, dieting, soreness and sparring, along with a second round KO on the stage of MSG, pays off. There is no better feeling I have experienced in my lifetime when I heard stars like Rihanna, Jake Gyllenhaal and CC Sabathia cheer my name.

6. What was the coolest thing about MSG?

I felt like I was a star that night. Before I walked out to the ring, MSG was playing a video of me training and getting interviewed. I found out it aired across the country on Fox Sports. I felt blessed because most fighters do not get that exposure for their professional debut.

7. What's next for the White Tiger?

In the beginning stages of my boxing career, we did not make a lot of money, compared to a professional baseball player or football player. It is important for me to stay busy and fight about every 45 days, give or take. I would like to fight again soon. I stay busy by updating my social media sites, which include "The White Tiger Dustin Fleischer" fan page on Facebook, my Instagram account, and my Twitter account
@dustinfleischer. I keep them updated in hopes of attracting sponsorship to help pay the expenses associated with training and completing my quest to become a part of Jewish history.

8. Best pizza in New York?

I am not that familiar with pizza in New York because I usually am dieting. However, if a pizza place was willing to arrange some kind of sponsorship on my behalf, then they are without a doubt the best pizza place in the world! Honestly, my favorite cheat meal is matzo ball soup. I get this from a diner around the corner from my house on the Jersey Shore. Also, I love the secret carrot cake recipe my mother makes for me after each bout.

2015-11-30
]]>Discovering the Israel I Didn’t Knowhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27273&blogid=142
Where I live, in South Tel Aviv, crumbling facades and rundown buildings are just as numerous as the chic bars and modern storefronts that one typically associates with the city.]]>Lindsey_22015-11-25T11:12:38ZJenna Cohen

Alex, a Holocaust survivor living in Israel.

Where I live, in South Tel Aviv, crumbling facades and rundown buildings are just as numerous as the chic bars and modern storefronts that one typically associates with the city.

Appearance-wise, it makes sense that Birthright Israel, a program designed to entice young Jews to come to Israel, would skip my neighborhood. South Tel Aviv is poor. Daily life is more of a visible struggle here. There are more beggars on the street, more prematurely weathered hands digging through the trash to find their next meal. There are people in need here -- Jews in need -- and it's not a pretty or an easy thing to see, but it's something we need to see.

After my Birthright experience, I knew there was another side to Israel that I needed to experience in order to truly love and understand Israel, a country that had come to mean so much to me. So, four years after I first set foot on Israeli soil, I'm back as a Tikkun Olam in Tel Aviv-Jaffa participant, working to aid and embrace "The White City" in whatever way I can.

Tikkun Olam in Tel Aviv-Jaffa is both and educational and an experiential program. Participants divide their time between studying Hebrew, Jewish texts, art and history (among other subjects) at Bina -- one of the only secular yeshivas in Israel -- and volunteering/interning for social action and coexistence programs in Tel Aviv-Jaffa. Such programs include (but are not limited to) afterschool tutoring programs for at-risk youth, volunteering at safe houses for LGBT teens and leading integrated acting classes for Jewish, Muslim, Druze and African teens. It's exhausting work, but each night, my remarkable peers return home smiling with the knowledge that they made a difference for someone that day.

The work I do is a little less hands-on day-to-day. I work as an intern at Latet Israeli Humanitarian Aid, which provides aid to Holocaust survivors and families in need across Israel. I work in Latet's Development and Community Relations Office where, with two of my fellow interns, I work on English grants, marketing materials, and international outreach. Most days, our work at the Latet office is meaningful but not terribly glamorous. However, last month, I had the extraordinary treat of visiting one of the Holocaust survivors who benefits from Latet's services.

Alex is a wiry gentleman in his 80s with faded Russian military tattoos on his hands and the gruff voice of a man who has smoked two packs of cigarettes a day for several decades. Most of the food on his kitchen shelves is canned or boxed, having come from Latet's supplementary food packages and yearly food drives. His living room also doubles as a bedroom in order to make space for the cobbler shop that Alex runs out of his apartment.

On the day of my visit, Latet was installing kitchen shelves, a new armoire and safety railings in Alex's home -- a service Latet offers to Holocaust survivors who need extra aid and spend a lot of time alone. I was there to photograph the renovations, but all I could see through my camera lens was Alex and the quiet pleasure that filled his eyes each time a new piece was installed. As soon as the kitchen shelf went in, Alex began piling it with food; when the new armoire was finished, he immediately pulled clothes off the chair that had acted as his dresser and began purposefully placing them inside; when the shower railings were finished, he practiced getting in and out, clearly grateful not to have to use an old plastic strap to steady himself anymore.

It took several hours to build and install all of the additions to Alex's home, but to me, the entire experience seemed to pass in a matter of minutes. As the handymen hammered and nailed away in the background, Alex gathered us on the couch of his living room/bedroom and told us the story of his life. And while I only understood a fraction of Alex's accented Hebrew, I felt a strong connection to him by the end of the afternoon; I didn't need language to understand his soul.

I left that day with a renewed vigor for my work at Latet, having seen with my own eyes the good that hours of work behind a winking computer screen can do. My efforts not only meant something, they brought about positive change that I got to see with my very own eyes.

Working at Latet and meeting people like Alex are experiences that have reshaped (and continue to reshape) my vision of Israel. Before Tikkun Olam in Tel Aviv-Jaffa, I thought I knew Israel. But I see now that my knowledge of Israel was limited to the famous places that one finds on a postcard like the Old City and the Dead Sea. Now, after two and a half months of working and living with the people of South Tel Aviv, I have richer experiences to write home about.

I can't believe my good fortune to be a part of this amazing program and the profundity of the experiences I'm having. I have never felt so close to Israel and the Jewish people as I feel right now.

2015-11-25
]]>College Sex and Orthodox Valueshttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27269&blogid=142
My roommates and I lounged around in Sunday pajamas, which became our outfits for the day, when a friend walked in, plopped onto our sofa and announced how last night she had come close to losing her virginity.]]>Lindsey_22015-11-24T12:56:24ZEliana Block

My roommates and I lounged around in Sunday pajamas, which became our outfits for the day, when a friend walked in, plopped onto our sofa and announced how last night she had come close to losing her virginity.

"Do I have a story to tell you," Frieda Leah said to us four-suddenly-transfixed-"you"s.

It started with a high ponytail, a pair of acid wash skinny jeans and a couple of modest vodka rounds. Cutting through the bar throng, Frieda Leah was approached by John, whose body smelled of packed people and breath reeked of bottled yeast. John said he remembered F.L. from freshman year oral communication class.

"What a smooth talker," she said with a faraway glance.

John showered her with compliments at the bar and before long the two were making out on her tie-dye blanket back in her apartment. She described the pace and place of their movements and how their contact erotically accelerated. It wasn't long until John made his intentions clear: he wanted to have sex -- without a condom.

My roommates and I were like tamed snakes wholly bewitched by the tune F.L. played. My mouth tasted dry, at which point I realized I was gaping.

When F.L. decided things between her and John were getting precariously pregnant, she told him flat out, "I'm not having sex with you." And his single response sobered Frieda Leah to guilt.

"Did you know we weren't going to have sex when you brought me here?" he asked.

Side note: In every moment we have the right to change our minds, and we often do at the expense of another's expectation. In this moment, F.L. did not change her mind, but told her mind, which serves as a commentary on our need to be better communicators so expectations are consensually fitting before they are formed.

--

Last year I lived in a dorm with a library that made me feel misplaced without a terry cloth robe and engraved Sherry glass. I would do almost all my work in that library and take frequent breaks to chat with Wyn. He would tell me about the screaming nuns in Catholic school and I would tell him whatever he wanted to know about Judaism. One day though, I put religious discussions aside and asked Wyn about sex. (Tell someone once in your life that you're a virgin, and I promise, you'll be replaying their furrowed, blushing and contorting face as they process the unfathomable over and over. It's pure gold.)

I asked Wyn how long he usually waits after meeting a girl for them to have sex. He said usually after their third hangout or date, confirming the Hollywood image I knew. "But, I'm seeing this girl right now and I've never met anyone like her," he said. "I want it to be special, so I'm going to wait three weeks."

--

In my 2.5-hour poetry workshop class, it doesn't take long to discover who among the crew isn't catching on. With a class of 17 "success-exually" prowling poets, my homework is to read about drugs and sex.

I've scanned stanzas of Skype sex that described "pink pixels," cringed through rhymes of rape and blushed at ballads depicting boats hitting the dock back and forth, driven by the current. My poems, on the other hand, were about a pickpocket, a mother putting her daughter to sleep with a fairy tale, and moving into a new house. They're not the poems that have you running to google "areola" and "coitus." (Never mistakenly hit Google Images.)

When I was at my Bubby's for Sukkot, I was trying to find one of my poems in a folder and she accidentally picked up one of my classmates' entitled "I Lost My Penis." My Bubby's blouse rippled as she shook in a fit of laughter. If Mom and Dad had been there I would have heard for the umpteenth time their disgust and misgivings over not sending me to Stern College for Women (a Jewish university).

--

I don't judge Frieda Leah; how can I? Do I consider myself much better? Not at all. Because to be poetic -- to wield a judge's mallet against another -- requires virtuous values that my own two feet cannot support. And to be blunt, we all can relate to having sexual drives.

Being immersed in secular college, with its own cultural code of conduct, my Orthodox ideologies are being pushed and shoved to accept or reject this sex culture that I haven't come to terms with. As an Orthodox Jew I believe in saving sex for marriage, and as a Jewish college student I feel this tug of war between making my parents proud
while enjoying the funnest years of my life. But, just as Me, I know I'm deeply jealous of those who don't have to reconcile both.

To my sexually active peers who read this, use protection. To my very modest friends, don't worry, I promise the world is safe. To mothers who read this, teach your kids everything they need to know about sex before sending them to school. And to sisters who read this, make sure mom isn't reading this.

2015-11-24
]]>The Only Dish You Need To Survive Winterhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27265&blogid=142
Food and eating has and always will be special and unifying to my family. There is no doubt about it -- the kitchen is by far the most important room in my parents' home. ]]>Lindsey_22015-11-23T15:37:02ZLiz Kaydanovsky

Food and eating has and always will be special and unifying to my family. There is no doubt about it -- the kitchen is by far the most important room in my parents' home. They are forever hosting and it doesn't matter if you stop by for a few minutes or a few hours, you won't be allowed to leave until you've had a beverage and some homemade goodness.

My dad loves cooking and lately he's been on a French roll (pun intended), and it's little wonder why. The French do it right. France exudes beauty in all things: in life, love and especially food. Eating is not merely to sate your appetite, it is recreational -- it is art.

And let me tell you, this dish is beautiful! There are so many colors, flavors, and it just warms your heart and stomach. It's the mother of all cooked veggie dishes, a French traditional delight -- ratatouille!

I'll be honest, when my dad first told me about this dish, the first thing that popped into my head was the beloved Disney movie. It stars the lovable rat Remy, who has hopes and dreams of one day becoming a serious chef. (It's a great movie that I totally recommend.)

But as adorably cute as the movie is, let's unveil the real star here in all its glory. This ratatouille is a hearty creation including, but not limited to, tomatoes, zucchini, eggplant and onions. Often times it's baked and served with cheese too. The key here is to make it your own, and make it our own we did.

2. This dish is super healthy. There's nothing but veggies and olive oil here. So indulge as much as your heart desires and leave your guilt freezing its ass off in the cold because there's no room for it here.

4. It's filling. For real, a couple servings, and I'm good to go for hours (and so is my dad, who is a man that loves to eat and casually stands at 6 ft. 2 in.).

5. This dish is art. It's beautiful, it's vibrant; it's a colorful collage. I truly believe that the more colors you eat, the more colorful your life. When I eat this, I not only feel nourishment, but I physically see it.

6. Lastly, but most importantly, this was quality time well spent with my dad. I love cooking with him because when we share our ideas, we come up with some pretty incredible dishes (just my opinion, of course).

1. Put 2-3 tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil into a wok or pan over high heat. Let the wok heat up for 30 seconds, and throw in the chopped onions. Stir occasionally until onions become translucent. They will give off a lot of liquid, which is exactly what we want to create a nice sauce base.

2. Now it's time to throw in the garlic/jalapeño and mix that in.

3. Repeat step 2 one-by-one for the tomatoes, orange pepper, and mushrooms. Stir as you go and watch all the beautiful colors melt and blend together.

4. Season with black pepper and oregano. Let the liquefying mixture simmer for 5 minutes and the sauce is done!

Time for the Main Dish

1. Take out a baking dish. We used a glass one but it really doesn't matter what kind you use as long as it has depth so that we can layer our veggies :). Then pour out a nice layer of sauce.

2. Now the fun part, we will use our sliced eggplant, zucchini, and tomatoes and start layering these veggies one on top of another (and watch art come to life).

3. Once all veggies are layered twice, pour the 2
nd
half of the sauce on top, dousing the top layer of veggies entirely.

4. Preheat oven to 350 degrees and allow the dish to bake for an hour.

5. In the meantime, set the table & call the family, because they will not want to miss this glorious dish!

6. Indulge friends!

I'd like to thank my dad for this incredibly simple and healthy recipe. It's really perfect for the whole family and it's sure to make your winter more colorful.

2015-11-23
]]>At Mizzou, did I do enough?http://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27236&blogid=142
This past week, thousands of University of Missouri alumni, including myself, and especially those of us who write (and there’s no shortage of us), have been trying to find the words for what has transpired.]]>Lindsey_22015-11-16T14:29:15ZSteven Chaitman

This past week, thousands of University of Missouri alumni, including myself, and especially those of us who write (and there's no shortage of us), have been trying to find the words for what has transpired. How do you respond when the nation's eyes turn to your alma mater -- a place you once called home -- because many of its students don't feel at home there?

I had been largely unaware of what was happening at Mizzou this semester. Thanks to outstanding media coverage (I expect nothing less from Mizzou) including an interactive timeline from the student newspaper, The Maneater, I was able to catch up.

My initial reaction was how powerful to see free speech rally a group of students to put an end to complacency and indifference toward racism. Not an incident of racially-motivated violence, not some heinous act of hate and intimidation, but the Missouri Students Association president writing about a firsthand experience of verbal racism on campus -- and posting it on Facebook.

I thought Mizzou cannot be the only campus where this is happening, and in a way it made me proud that my campus was giving voice to a larger systemic problem across the country. But it still felt terrible to know that the nation was looking at my school as a place where racism is alive and unchecked and that it needed to come down to the football team boycotting team activities and members of university leadership resigning.

When I read that MU System President Tim Wolfe and Chancellor R. Bowen Loftin had resigned, however, I knew that while necessary, it was not enough. These men are not bigots or racists, and removing them does not change the culture at Mizzou around race. It will not stop people from shouting slurs at black students. MU leadership does need to be more responsive to the needs of all student groups and actively foster an inclusive and respectful environment, but real change is up to the students.

Thinking back on my four years at Mizzou, my freshman year was actually the first time that any sort of racial diversity existed in my life. My roommate was black, and I was friendly with a number of other black students in my dorm, as well as students of other races and backgrounds. It was also the first (and turns out only) time I was "the Jewish kid."

Overall, I felt comfortable and accepted in my dorm and on campus, but I discovered this week that some of the friends I made 10 years ago who are black didn't feel that way -- their Facebook responses reflected on experiencing racism and racial tension during their time at Mizzou.

It was sad to read that, and it begged the question: could I have done something to make their experience better, to make my campus more accepting?

After my freshman year I didn't meet or interact with students of other races. I found a place for myself at Alpha Epsilon Pi, sticking with my Jewish roots, and as part of MU's disproportionately white Greek system, diversity largely faded from my campus experience. I played in my corner of the sandbox and was content there.

I can think of two exceptions. That's it.

During my freshman year, one of my older fraternity brothers invited a few of us to come see the step show. I had no idea what that was. He told us that it was the coolest thing that he'd ever seen at Mizzou and it was free -- we were sold.

Our main auditorium on campus was packed with black students. Each of the black fraternities came out on stage and did a step routine while people shouted and cheered on their friends in the middle of the dancing. In between performances, music blasted from the house speakers and the whole crowd got up and started dancing in the aisles. I'd never seen anything like it: the talent, the spirit, the energy -- it was electric. I had seen a whole part of black collegiate culture that I otherwise would've never known existed.

The second happened a couple years later. Our fraternity organized a highway cleanup with a black fraternity. We didn't all become best friends because of one community service project, but we recognized the importance of bringing two minority groups on campus together and building that campus community connection.

After all the news this week, I'm more proud of those experiences than ever. I am proud of my fraternity and our effort to bring down barriers -- real or perceived -- between cultures. But two experiences? Two efforts? I wish we had done more.

When 18-year-olds go off to college and learn how to live and behave as independent adults, they bring their experiences with them -- and that includes their biases and their prejudices. It is such a fragile transition and any moment can impact how they will see the world forever. That's why what's happening at Mizzou today is such a big deal. Fostering diversity and creating a safe environment on campus is not just a "nice idea," it's a necessity. All students on all campuses deserve to feel they belong and all students should learn, at this stage in their lives, how to be open, accepting and respectful to all people and ideas.

So if there's anything I can add to this national dialogue it's this: When your school isn't doing a good enough job, you have more options than to just protest the leadership. You can create something positive. Seek out a new cultural experience for whatever student organizations you belong to. Attend a different religious service. The times when I did these things, or when a friend came to check out something Jewish I was part of, I remember them. I remember them as much as I remember the fun I had going out to the bars, and I treasure them more. Find your place on campus, but then explore other places.

Colleges and universities need to be places of cultural exploration, where all people can learn from and with one another. That can't happen if some students don't feel welcome, or safe. It's worth protesting over and it's worth fighting for.

2015-11-16
]]>A Rabbi, A Priest and My Brother’s Weddinghttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27231&blogid=142
My eldest brother recently got
married to a beautiful woman whom I’m now fortunate to call my sister-in-law.
The Drake Hotel in Chicago was the perfect romantic backdrop for the magical
evening celebrated with close friends and family, scrumptious food, delicious
drinks and a groovy band.]]>Lindsey_22015-11-13T14:56:24ZCarly Gerber

Carly and her brothers

My eldest brother recently got married to a beautiful woman whom I'm now fortunate to call my sister-in-law. The Drake Hotel in Chicago was the perfect romantic backdrop for the magical evening celebrated with close friends and family, scrumptious food, delicious drinks and a groovy band.

But, what made this wedding unlike any I've attended is that both a priest and rabbi officiated the wedding ceremony.

My brother, coming from a Jewish household, and his wife, coming from a Catholic one, both wanted to honor and respect their loved ones and came to the decision to have their marriage encompass both faiths. Naturally, I was curious how this would work. I know plenty of people who have married someone of a different faith, but the couples opted for Jewish ceremonies. An interfaith wedding in the truest sense, was new to me -- and the many guests.

But the ceremony was truly exceptional. It began with the wedding party, groom and bride walking through the beautiful Grand Ballroom to the sounds of a band playing contemporary love songs. The elegant floral arrangements of pink and white flowers that aligned the aisle blended exquisitely with the room's golden pillars and turquoise marble walls.

Tears, smiles, and laughter filled the room while Rabbi Ari Moffic and Father Bernie Pietrzak stood under the
chuppah
(wedding canopy), each taking their turn explaining the wedding customs of Judaism and Catholicism and then leading the guests in prayer.

I also had the privilege of honoring my brother's and his wife's religions during their wedding ceremony. Along with one of my brother's oldest friends, I had the pleasure of signing their
ketubah, or wedding contract, as witnesses. Then, during the ceremony, I read a section from the Book of Sirach, a section of the Catholic Bible, that explains the joys a wife can bring to her husband and home.

After the vows were said and kisses exchanged, the beautiful interfaith ceremony came to an end. During cocktail hour, I had numerous people of different faiths exclaim the warmth they felt during the ceremony. I couldn't have agreed more.

What struck me most about their wedding ceremony is that it blended two religions and symbolized how they now coexist in a union. Now their marriage will have a strong foundation of welcome-ness and respect for the differences that makes us all unique and loved.

2015-11-13
]]>40 …http://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27227&blogid=142
In just a few days I’m going to be 40. FORTY. How did that happen? Whoever said that time flies, wasn’t joking around. It feels like I was in high school about half an hour ago and suddenly here I am at an age that sounded light years away. ]]>Lindsey_22015-11-11T11:28:59ZJeremy Owens

In just a few days I'm going to be 40. FORTY. How did that happen?

Whoever said that time flies, wasn't joking around. It feels like I was in high school about half an hour ago and suddenly here I am at an age that sounded light years away.

I have been anxious about 40 since the minute I turned 39 and over the last year I have been through all of the stages of grief. I was depressed, mad, in denial and more than once I have shaken my fists at the sky while begging for time to stop. There were even times where all of that happened at once. I must admit that I have been a mess, but now that the big FOUR-OHH is knocking on my door I think I'm ready.

My most favorite thing about being Jewish is how it calls us to be awake, present and in the NOW. All of life's stages are celebrated, even the ones we aren't excited to see. We are called upon to recognize every new experience as a gift, and are challenged to be full of gratitude. We even have a prayer to keep us mindful and thankful.

The
Shehecheyanu
is a beautiful prayer, I've been thinking about it a lot lately. If the attitude of gratitude has a king, the
Shehecheyanu
is it. When I'm feeling uncertain and afraid, which honestly is exactly how I'm feeling right now, I like to say it a few times to myself. It reminds me to say thank you.

It's wild that I'm about to be 40. It's also a miracle. I'm lucky. Forty doesn't have to mean anything, right? I'm doing exactly what I'm supposed to be doing. I'm certainly not planning to slow down, and I feel more centered, focused and sure than I ever have. I may have even reached the point where I love myself -- a lot. I can't wait to see what's next, and I'm thrilled to have finally reached the age where I can throw open my window and yell, "Hey, kids! Get off of my lawn!"

I think it's going to be OK.

Blessed are You, Our God, Ruler of the Universe, who has granted us life, sustained us, and enabled us to reach this moment.

2015-11-11
]]>My Crazy, Beautiful Israeli Classroomhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27222&blogid=142
As I reflect on my TALMA experience, I feel as if an overwhelming amount of change and growth has taken place. There are the superficial, surface changes like living in a different country for a month, getting slightly tanner, gaining new friends and eating large amounts of hummus and pita for four consecutive weeks, but really, it goes beyond that.]]>Lindsey_22015-11-10T11:03:20ZHow teaching English in Israel for a month changed my perspectiveRachel Morrison

As I reflect on my TALMA experience, I feel as if an overwhelming amount of change and growth has taken place. There are the superficial, surface changes like living in a different country for a month, getting slightly tanner, gaining new friends and eating large amounts of hummus and pita for four consecutive weeks, but really, it goes beyond that.

There has been such a shift in my perspective. The lenses through which I view both education and "real life" are exponentially different than they were at the end of June.

The
TALMA program
brings instructional leaders from around the world to teach English to students in low-income communities on the Israeli periphery through an immersion-centered learning environment. And as anyone would guess, Israeli culture inside (and outside) the classroom is quite different.

There are a unique set of challenges accompanied by many successes. It was not, for example, uncommon for my small class of nine students to have multiple screaming matches (with my co-teacher and I as well as each other), kicking wars and crying fits. The door was slammed multiple times per day and silence was quite the rarity -- even when one of us was talking. Describe this situation to me before all this happened and I would have been extremely scared. I would have shaken my head in disbelief, smiling a doubtful smile.

But this is the reality. The students are genuinely sweet. They are real and authentic. They are loud, outspoken, and stand up for what they believe in. Their energy and behavior are like nothing I've ever experienced in a classroom. And you know what's strange? I absolutely
loved
all of this.

I lived for each day inside the classroom. I lived for each challenging moment in which I had no idea what I was supposed to do; for the times that it was absolutely essential that I rely on my patient co-teacher for his ability to speak their language; for the times that I thought to myself about how behaviors like this were not common in our schools; for the moments when I felt completely powerless and didn't know what to do.

The beauty is that each time I found myself in a difficult situation, I did something. I am, in fact, not powerless. I was forced to expand my knowledge, reach for tools I've never used, and rely on help from others to turn a challenging situation into a unique learning experience.

The first day, I was panicking about something. Sahar (my co-teacher, who has become like family) looked at me and said, "It's no problem." When I asked him how he could be so calm, he gave me the best advice I've heard in quite a while: "A problem is something big, like losing a child. Israel has bigger problems than the computer not turning on."

I took a step back and thought about every time I'm stressed about something at my job at home, or panicked about something in my real life. He's right. What seems like a problem actually isn't. It will be okay. Life is going to continue. The students spoke more and more English, and each day ended with a smile.

I'm not sure that describing the change in my perspective as just a shift is accurate, exactly. When I came into this program, I felt extremely nervous (shocker, right?). I did not trust that my teaching experience and education would be enough. While I have learned valuable lessons in best practices for teaching English learners each day, I've also learned that it is absolutely essential to believe in what I bring into the classroom. Each TALMA teacher (Israeli and American) has such a unique skill set that allows him or her to be successful. The proof is in the conversations I've had with others, pictures shared on Facebook and just the overall confidence in the group.

With that being said, one of the most important lessons I've learned is that it is 100 percent okay (and necessary) to ask for help and rely on others. I admit that I haven't always been the best at this both in the school setting and real life. But being in a loud classroom with children yelling a foreign language and looking at you with pure confusion on their sweet faces really is eye-opening. It is a "rip the Band-aid off" learning situation that makes you feel absolutely powerless in a humbling way.

Although I've known it all along, I now believe and live the idea that we cannot do all things alone. Each moment I relied on my amazing co-teacher and principal, students, friends and TALMA administrators. While that may have left me feeling inadequate in the past, I now feel fulfilled.

There has also been such a growth in my instructional strategies, especially with teaching English learners. I've realized the importance of movement breaks, games, gestures, pointing and relevant vocabulary. But the growth has come in my educational philosophy. I've always strived to incorporate authentic learning activities into the curriculum, but that abstract term is now more concrete. These activities do not only have to be learning vocabulary, spelling words or reading.

The times in which I've seen the biggest change in my students is when we've done an activity to build their confidence; the moments when we play at recess and converse in English; and when they get to teach me Hebrew. In the past, authentic still meant directly related to the learning goals, being able to be measured by standards. Now I have seen the value of self-confidence and the socio-emotional aspect. It is such a powerful thing to be able to make a strong connection with children who understand very little of the language you speak.

Life is challenging, that's for sure, but by relying on others, taking each moment for what it is, leaving the past behind, smiling and believing in ourselves and in others -- we'll all make it through.

TALMA, a program sponsored by the Israeli Government, the Schusterman Family Foundation & the Steinhardt Foundation, seeks to enlist more than one hundred instructional leaders from around the world to educate, inspire and lead in an informal, experiential summer learning program for elementary school students in the Israeli periphery. TALMA educators will teach in an English immersion-centered learning environment for students who live in low-income communities. English proficiency is essential for future academic success and developing this skill is critical to unlocking future opportunities.

TALMA is YOUR opportunity to use your summer to grow your leadership network, gain international education experience and have an immersive personal & professional development journey in Israel grounded in an effort to repair the world. The first two summers were an amazing success, and now we want to expand this groundbreaking program and increase our impact with the contributions of MORE highly qualified leaders like you to spearhead the effort.

2015-11-10
]]>Eating Like a Kidhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27218&blogid=142
Okay, guys. Brace yourself. This is big. Or, rather, not so big. More like kid-sized -- but amazing. I have recently discovered that even if you are, in fact, 29 years old, you can be a kid again and order from the kids menu at a restaurant.]]>StevenChaitman@juf.org2015-11-09T15:49:39ZLia (Lehrer) Goldfarb

Okay, guys. Brace yourself. This is big.

Or, rather, not so big. More like kid-sized -- but amazing.

I have recently discovered that even if you are, in fact, 29 years old, you can be a kid again and order from the kids menu at a restaurant.

This changes absolutely everything. Here is what I have learned.

Reasons to order from the kids menu

- The food is obviously better than the regular menu.
- No more "I can't eat at this restaurant because the food is too fancy for me!"
- Cheaper. Most of the time, it's under $5.
- Usually comes with apple slices or grapes.
- Always -- not usually, but always -- comes with chocolate milk.

It all started a few months ago, at L. Woods, a restaurant I visit often because it's in a good location, but a place where the only menu item I enjoy is a flatbread pizza. This flatbread is so flat that it always feels like I'm eating nothing but air -- which is fun, but not filling.

"One of these days, I'm just going to ask for the kids menu!" I said to a colleague in her 50s.

"Waitress, we'll take a kids menu!" she yelled, hands in the air.

Even though the kids menu said that it was for kids ages 10 and under and not for "jealous" adults, I asked the waitress very nicely if I could possibly order something from the kids menu. She agreed, I ordered, and my 50-year-old colleague said she'd have the same. Minutes later, out came a delicious meal of grilled cheese, French fries, and a bowl of grapes plucked from their stems.
This
is what heaven looks like.

Since then, I've been on a quest to learn more about kids menus. This is what I've learned so far.

Potbelly

So far, Potbelly has been the least impressive kids menu. I enjoyed a delicious mini version of the PB and J sandwich (it was like a finger sandwich at a tea party!) for under $4, but it did not come with ANY side dishes. Come on, Potbelly, what about my balanced meal? I'm a growing girl!

Panera

Slightly outranking Potbelly is Panera. I ordered a grilled cheese that came with a choice of apple, baguette, or yogurt. This didn't impress me because all meals come with a choice of apple, baguette, or chips, so this didn't make me feel special or kid-like.

My friend, who is around my mom's age, got excited and ordered a kids Greek salad along with a side of apple. It was good, but this is pretty inauthentic. I mean, seriously, what kid orders a Greek salad?

Subway

I very much enjoyed my kids meal at Subway. It sadly does not come with one of their amazing cookies, and you don't have a choice of bread (just white or wheat), but you get a mini sub (if a 6-in. is their small sub, this must be a 3-in.) plus apple slices and chocolate milk.

Chipotle

Ahh, Chipotle. I didn't even think there was anything I could eat here until I learned about their secret kids menu. If you're a kid at Chipotle -- or just an adult who asks for the kids menu really nicely -- you get two cheese quesadillas, two or three sides (I got different answers depending on the location), either grapes or chips (depending on the location), and, of course, chocolate milk. At the time of this picture, I enjoyed the quesadillas with rice, grilled vegetables, grapes, and chocolate milk. I do not understand why this place does not have a Michelin star!

Culver's

The winner of my kids menu research is definitely Culver's. It's hard for me to imagine any kind of competition that Culver's would lose, because I'm so in love with their frozen custard, but I'd say this is pretty fair.

On the Culver's kids menu, while taking a break from a long drive from Chicago to Minneapolis, I enjoyed a grilled cheese sandwich, applesauce, chocolate milk and a scoop of vanilla custard. And I'm pretty sure that they gave me back my change from a $5 bill. The custard there is so delicious but it's even more delicious after you know that you've earned it -- you've eaten your protein (cheese in the sandwich), fruit (applesauce), and calcium (chocolate milk), so there's really no guilt.

I challenge all of you to go out there and see which places have the best kids menus. You'll save money, eat healthier, and you'll feel like you did in the good ol' days.

I'm hungry … I wonder what they serve to kids at Alinea!

2015-11-09
]]>Hacking Holiday Hefthttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27210&blogid=142
To survive hibernation, bears pack on the pounds in autumn. We do the same thing, even though binge watching Netflix is not the same as hibernating.]]>Lindsey_22015-11-04T13:54:28ZRon Krit

To survive hibernation, bears pack on the pounds in autumn. We do the same thing, even though binge watching Netflix is not the same as hibernating.

Aside from a buffet of viewing options, we also have actual buffets and endless eating options during the late fall and winter months. It starts with Thanksgiving mashed potatoes, and ends with a champagne toast on New Year's. It feels like an unavoidable health trap, but it doesn't have to be that way.

You can survive the holidays without all the weight gain! With a little planning, you won't need to add larger pants to your holiday wish list.

Become a "food snob"

My favorite trick to avoid most treats is to become a food snob. I will never quit desserts, but if it's average brownies, I'm going to skip it. I love a good chocolate chip cookie, but I won't let a plate of burnt chocolate chip cookies ruin my diet. The same philosophy can be applied to mashed potatoes and green bean casserole. If something is Top Chef quality I'll take a small portion, maybe get seconds, but anything super salty or not that good gets passed. Don't feel guilty because a pushy family member or friend is guilting you into it.

Find the healthy alternative

If you are in charge of a menu or a dish, make it healthy and delicious. Be sure to spice things up too with natural flavor boosters -- don't give healthy food a bad rap. Turmeric, curry, paprika, garlic powder, cumin, dill, oregano, basil, thyme, rosemary, ginger, and cinnamon (it's not just for desserts!) can do wonders. If you are trying to lose weight, bring fruit for dessert. Or better yet, combine them. I used to make healthy cookies using apple sauce and though my family did not love them, pumpkin was another story. Pumpkin is high in vitamin A, has three grams of fiber per cup, and has other health benefits. It is great in baked goods, breads and soups.

Home is where the gym is

As the colder months come and you don't want to venture outside, work out in your home. Buy some fun fitness videos, have a dance party, or work with a trainer. A cheaper option to personal training is working with a trainer online. All trainers do it differently, but whether through Skype, texting or emails, having a "virtual coach" helps. I have clients log their food and I send them workouts. We talk about the workouts and I offer some healthy eating options. The key is in the tracking. Once you have to write down Doritos and Oreos as a snack, you make better life choices.

If you decide to workout at home, and need some equipment, I recommend bands. They are affordable, don't take up a lot of space, and you won't break your toe if you drop it. I like the bands they sell at
www.resistancebandtraining.com
and the
Spri
bands with handles. If you want to get a bunch of stuff, check out craigslist; people are always trying to get rid of equipment.

Lastly, have some fitness fun! Now is a great time to take tennis lessons or join a basketball league. When I don't have time to work out, I setup an obstacle course and have my four year old do it with me.

What are your holiday health hacks?

2015-11-04
]]>‘Be still, my love’http://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27206&blogid=142
It's human nature to keep waiting for our "real" life to start once we have all our ducks in a row. We're waiting for that dream job, that dream love, that dream baby, that dream white picket fence, to reach that dream body size.]]>Lindsey_22015-11-03T14:01:24ZCindy Sher

Any minute now my ship is coming in
I'll keep checking the horizon
And I'll stand on the bow
And feel the waves come crashing down…
And you said, 'Be still, my love
Open up your heart
Let the light shine in'
Don't you understand?
I already have a plan
I'm waiting for my real life to begin…

These are lyrics from the Colin Hay's song "Waiting for My Real Life to Begin."

I imagine his words resonate for many of us. After all, it's human nature to keep waiting for our "real" life to start once we have all our ducks in a row. We're waiting for that dream job, that dream love, that dream baby, that dream white picket fence, to reach that dream body size.

But while we wait, we're stuck in a holding pattern. While we wait, we miss out on the good stuff that's all around us. While we wait, we miss our lives.

Don't get me wrong. Dreaming big, holding on to hope, and creating lives with intention are all important, but just as vital is how we spend the here and now.

We as people, particularly as Jews, know that life is precious and fleeting. One of the tenets that's core to Judaism tells us it's how we treat each other today and what we do today that counts. As Pirkei Avot, Ethics of the Fathers, teaches us: "Who is happy? He who is happy with what he has."

Did we love, laugh, learn, lift people up, and find meaning in today? Why sit and wait for what may or may not happen tomorrow, or after we pass on?

Last spring, I shared a poignant exchange with Rabbi Naomi Levy, a spiritual leader and author living in Venice, Calif., who spoke to the Chicago Jewish community when she was in town. When Levy's daughter was just a little girl, she was diagnosed with a serious illness. After facing a lot of tough days and introspection, Levy discovered that no matter what obstacles were thrown her way, she would still manage to see the blessings in the present. "I found a way to see the openings," she told me, "to see more of the light than the darkness."

In fact, she encourages everyone to discover meaning and blessings in today, to live the best possible life now-even though life is imperfect.

For instance, as a rabbi who often counsels Jewish singles, she advises unmarried people to stop putting their lives on hold until their potential, future partners walk through the door. "I've seen single people unwilling to even buy dishes, eating off paper plates," Levy said. They'd tell her, "'I'll buy dishes when I get married and for now I can just slum it." Instead, Levy urges them to say, "'I'm here, I'm alive, and I deserve to eat off dishes. I deserve to live the most beautiful life possible and not put it off for some magical point in the future.'"

Today's technology makes us less centered than ever. We're constantly splitting focus from what's present and real to what's virtual, on our screens. In a recent New York Times
column, titled "Stop Googling. Let's Talk," written by technology professor Sherry Turkle, the author asserts that dividing our attention between face-to-face interaction and face-to-smartphone interaction is lessening the quality of our conversation with each other. Texting is tampering with our ability to talk to each other in a deep and meaningful way because we all have (tech) attention deficit disorder. Even when we're alone, Turkle explains, by looking at our phones every two seconds, we're detracting from own concentration and imagination.

So maybe it's time to put our phones away a bit more. As we approach the holiday of Thanksgiving -- a national holiday that I've found to be an extension of the High Holy Days because it centers around themes of gratitude, so present in Jewish values -- maybe it's time to focus less on what we don't have, on what we want next year, or some day way down the road. Maybe it's time to look at the blessings we have right now.

I'm thankful -- right now -- to be relatively safe, free, loved, at peace, in good health, and full of joy. I'm thankful for the beautiful bonds I share with my family, friends, and community. I'm thankful to get to do meaningful work every day. I'm thankful to be constantly learning and growing. And I'm thankful to be a strong Jewish woman living in a time and place where I'm encouraged to say and believe what I want -- to be me.

What are you grateful for today?

2015-11-03
]]>Interview with Chicagoan and former Royal Tony Coganhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27202&blogid=142
It’s World Series time, so it’s time for Jews everywhere to find a connection to the Series. Well, Kevin Pillar is done. Theo Epstein didn't come through. How about we go back in time a little?]]>Lindsey_22015-10-30T13:52:34ZJeremy Fine

It's World Series time, so it's time for Jews everywhere to find a connection to the Series. Well, Kevin Pillar is done. Theo Epstein didn't come through. How about we go back in time a little?

Introducing Chicago's own Tony Cogan. Cogan played for the Royals, although is admittedly a Cardinals fan. He recently joined
TheGreatRabbino.com Speaker Series. Here is his take on the ups and downs of getting to the Majors and the best pizza in Chicago.

1.Tell us a little bit about yourself?

I live in Chicago with my wife, our young son and our golden retriever. We are expecting our second child in late February. I grew up in the North Suburbs of Chicago and love the city, the Midwest, and its people. I have a passion for the outdoors -- fishing is on top of the list. I am actively involved with the Scleroderma Foundation of Greater Chicago.

2. You pitched at Highland Park High School. Ever go back to catch a Giants game?

I have been to one or two since graduating, but most of my time was spent away from home. I spent the majority of my off-seasons training with other ball players in northern California, close to school. I did, however, give private lessons in HP for a number of years following retiring from baseball.

3. Was it hard to jump from college (Stanford) to the minor leagues? What is the biggest difference?

Actually, it was surprisingly not that tough of a jump. The big jump was minors to majors. When I got to the minors out of college, I was frothing at the mouth to pitch to wood bats! I felt like the edge was tilted in favor of pitchers because most of the guys were coming out of college or high school and had to make an adjustment to using wood bats. That actually gave me a fair amount of confidence going into my first pro season. The playing field leveled as I moved up the ladder.

4. What was it finally like getting to the majors?

It was an incredible experience. I made the team out of spring training after only two minor league seasons -- so it was quite a surprise. I was not really expecting to be invited to major league spring training let alone making the team. On the last day of spring, the team was making final cuts and a few guys were still hanging out, waiting to talk to management. I was on pins and needles and one of the other players, Chris Wilson, pulled me aside and forced me to sit down and play cards with him to calm my nerves. When I finally got in the office, I had a good feeling, but still wasn't sure. Then, Tony Muser (the manager of the Royals at the time) sat me down and told me that I was going to be on a plane to New York to face the defending champion Yankees on opening day. I will quote him … "you did a nice job in spring training, now don't get all poopy pants on me!" Three days later I was in Yankee Stadium!

5. When did you know it was time to finish your career?

That is a very tough question. A lot of thought and consideration went into the decision. I was still physically able to play when I ultimately hung 'em up. I can't say that "I knew" it was time, but it felt like the right time for me.

6. What have you been up to since baseball?

I am now an investment adviser. I work with a great team in the Private Wealth Management division at William Blair and Company in Chicago. I am a husband, a father of a 2-year-old boy, and have one on the way.

7. You played for the Royals. Are you a Royals fan? Do you have them winning it all?

I am a fan, but it's more about the current team and less about the fact that I played for them. Technically, I am a Cardinals fan, but mostly I am a fan of the game and good baseball. I like the Royals' chances in '15, but if they lose and this is printed after the fact you can strike my prediction from the record.

8. Since you are a Chicagoan. Where is your favorite place to grab pizza?

Great questions -- there are so many great places to eat pizza in Chicago. I am not much of a deep dish fan (blasphemy!) My current favorite would have to be Piece Pizza in Wicker Park. I am drooling just thinking about it.

2015-10-30
]]>The Original Birthright Triphttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27193&blogid=142
“Mom? Dad? Remember how you wanted me to love Israel and it was really important to you that I go there? Well, now that I’m here, I do love Israel. In fact, I’m not coming home. I’m staying here.”]]>Lindsey_22015-10-29T11:50:52ZJoshua Marder

"Mom? Dad? Remember how you wanted me to love Israel and it was really important to you that I go there? Well, now that I'm here, I do love Israel. In fact, I'm not coming home. I'm staying here."

That's what I told my parents at the ripe age of 16 halfway through my summer youth trip to Israel. And though not every Jewish youth has such an extreme response to their first experience in the Jewish homeland, we all become impassioned in some way. Some of us come back wanting to learn Hebrew. Some want to learn more about Jewish history. Some people are compelled to explore their Judaism more seriously, and others just feel a stronger sense of Jewish identity. This phenomenon is so profound that millions of dollars have been put into getting Jewish youth to encounter Israel.

There's something special that happens to the Jewish soul when it comes in contact with Israel. Yes, the falafel on Ben Yehuda is phenomenal, and the shawarma is shwooper shwrumptious, but is that all that's happening? We're reuniting with our ancient genetic Mideast taste buds? There's gotta be something more.

To understand it, we have to go back to the first Birthright Israel trip ever, which actually took place over 3,500 years ago. There were no applications available online at the time, only a prophetic message sent via Divine Cloud (great app) to the one applicant who put his name in the Divine auction to win a trip to Canaan Land. The one applicant was none other than our great-great-grandfather, Abraham. The acceptance letter read: "Go away from your land, from your birthplace, and from your father's house…" That's a lot of places to leave! Why so many?

There are three things that naturally provide a person with a sense of who they are. Family is the most basic. Whether as a result or reaction to our family, it is a major player in making us who we are. The next level of influence comes from our friends, especially the people we grew up with. We've been through it all together, and we impact each other through our interactions. The level beyond that is the community. When we are in a foreign country and we find someone from the same country, state or city that we're from, there's a feeling of association, of closeness. We may never have met before, but the fact you are also from Chicago, San Francisco, New York, Florida or Minneapolis connects us and we share a commonality.

The director of the first Birthright trip (i.e. the Almighty) told Abraham to leave all three of these impressions before coming to Israel. Why? He was going to discover something precious in Israel. No, not the beaches of Netanya (though they are beautiful) -- he was going to discover himself. The divine words saying to "go" in the Hebrew are, "Lech lecha," which literally translates to, "Go … to you."

There's a "you" that will only be found in Israel. Until you get there, you will not fully be "you." And in order to truly see and become the "you" that you can be, you have to rid yourself of any preconditioned notions of who you are. Drop all those external impressions of yourself; come to a new reality of your core as a Jew in your homeland and experience the true "you."

When young Jews go to Israel, they find a new self-definition. When they're open to the experience, they can find out just how beautiful and precious their heritage truly is. I know that I did. We see ourselves and our Judaism in a new light. It's a homecoming. Going to Israel is not just coming to our homeland and people, but also coming to the home within ourselves.

2015-10-29
]]>The Making of A Personal Statementhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27189&blogid=142
This past weekend, I ventured down to my alma mater, the University of Illinois at Urbana Champaign, and for 36 hours clumsily made my best attempt at re-living my college days.]]>Lindsey_22015-10-28T13:31:17ZAshley Kolpak

This past weekend, I ventured down to my alma mater, the University of Illinois at Urbana Champaign, and for 36 hours clumsily made my best attempt at re-living my college days. In the 10 years since I first stepped onto campus, so much has changed, yet so much remains the same. While I might not be able to party as hard as used to, getting to enjoy Champaign in the fall was just as much a treat as ever.

The weekend was an ideal mix of visiting with old friends and revisiting our treasured old haunts. You know what I mean. That college experience. Making my way back brought to mind an interesting thought: No matter how uncertain I was when I was applying to schools, I am so glad to have made my way there. I wasn't sure about my choice from the start, but my heart is filled with unforgettable memories and a warm nostalgia that will last for many years to come.

A few weeks ago I assisted a group of high school students in a college essay-writing workshop. I poured over the tips and tricks to get in the mode of cobbling together this most daunting of missives. When I arrived at the tutoring center, I was greeted by students with a range of strengths and experiences. I let my inner English professor take over as we chatted about which schools they wanted to attend and any colleges they visited while I prepped my pen (black, not red) to comb through their essay draft.

I tried my best to impart any wisdom I had. My own pass at the college essay process was half-hearted at best. I knew I loved to write. I knew my grades were passable. I participated in extra-curricular activities. My ACT was relatively up to snuff. My stumbling block? I didn't know how to write about myself.

I also didn't want to write about myself. I was terrified. I've been enamored of writing, stories and language since I can remember. Shaking in my proverbial 17-year-old boots, I had not a clue where to begin.

How do you distinguish yourself in a meaningful way, to share a unique perspective or experience? Those weren't the tenets of the English classes I'd absorbed. Answer the question. Follow the rules. Keep your head down. Work hard. Not, "What value can you add? What challenges have you faced and how did you overcome them?" Confidence was difficult to come by when I stared at the blank page.

It wasn't until I feverishly penned my essay, anxiously awaited my acceptance, went to college, lived a little more life in Chicago and abroad that I became more patient with myself. That patience has also encouraged me to continually deepen my effort to help others go through what I've already tackled.

Ten years later, I don't have the answers. But now, after two and half decades of voracious reading, writing and editing, my eye is trained and ready to peel through layers of a given document to get at the heart of what it's trying to say. My favorite part of working with these high school seniors is unearthing the core of what makes their own journey unique. How their personal experiences, described with their own narrative flair, fit into the framework of a personal mission statement is gratifying to reshape and define as a team. No one needs to write alone. But as I've learned the hard way, the most difficult and most crucial step is asking for help.

I admire the dedication it took these students to wake up early on a Saturday morning to work on this difficult piece of writing with a tutor they've never met. That takes guts, especially with a weekday schedule packed with hours of homework and activities.

I left these sessions with a few lessons bubbling to the surface, that hopefully we all learned together. When it comes to personal essay writing, don't be afraid to think of yourself in the most positive light possible. The longer you wade into the academic waters (and beyond), knowing the power you hold as your own advocate will be your guide. Don't censor yourself (within reason). Get someone else to read your writing.

For everyone, from the most ambitious Harvard-bound student to the most tepid and apprehensive, I wish them all the luck in the world in landing in a place -- and it definitely does not need to be four-year university -- where you feel contented, at home and ready to grow into the person you wish to become.

2015-10-28
]]>Bulls 2015-16 Season Previewhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27185&blogid=142
The 2015-16 NBA season tips off this week, and when the Chicago Bulls face off against the defending Eastern Conference champion Cleveland Cavaliers on Tuesday night, they’ll be sending out a lot of familiar faces. Except of course, for one.]]>StevenChaitman@juf.org2015-10-26T14:20:33ZEric Burgher

Jimmy Butler and Fred Hoiberg

The 2015-16 NBA season tips off this week, and when the Chicago Bulls face off against the defending Eastern Conference champion Cleveland Cavaliers on Tuesday night, they'll be sending out a lot of familiar faces. Except of course, for one.

The Coach

After five seasons as head coach, the Bulls parted ways with Tom Thibodeau. In so many ways, Thibodeau's time in Chicago was a success. His 255-139 regular season record is the second best in team history behind only Phil Jackson, but his teams -- once at the top of the league in most defensive categories -- were beginning to tune him out. Talk of championships turned to questions about playing time and injury management. Add a rift with the front office and a .451 winning percentage in the playoffs and his fate in Chicago was sealed. Thibodeau was as good a coach as there was in the NBA in terms of Xs and Os, but his shortcomings began to become glaring as the current roster's window of opportunity began to close.

So at the end of last season, the Bulls parted ways with Thibodeau and hired Iowa State coach (and former Chicago Bull) Fred Hoiberg. Hoiberg brings with him an approach that features a spread, high-paced offense, which should fit the myriad of wing shooters Gar Forman and John Paxson have assembled.

The roster from last season is almost entirely intact, giving Hoiberg a playoff-ready, experienced group hoping to achieve what they couldn't under Thibodeau.

The Backcourt

For the past four seasons the big story has been the health of Derrick Rose, and after his first healthy off-season in recent memory, it appeared they were going to avoid that this time around. Not so fast. Rose suffered an orbital fracture in practice about a month ago, but as it stands now, appears on track to play in the season opener.

But this isn't Rose's team anymore. This team is now led by Jimmy Butler, who cemented leadership status and his future with the Bulls when he signed a five-year, $95 million contract at the end of last season. Last year's Most Improved Player has seen growth in his game every season and now with the spotlight and the big contract he is looking to take his game to the next level and be the star the Bulls have been looking for to take them all the way.

Behind the starting backcourt of Rose and Butler is a familiar group. Aaron Brooks, Kirk Hinrich and E'twaun Moore return to back up and act as a three-man insurance policy for Rose. Brooks seems the best fit in Hoiberg's offense for his scoring ability, but Moore saw extended minutes in the pre-season and could see time if the Bulls use smaller lineups.

Moore or even Hinrich could see time at two guard, where the Bulls are a bit thin. Tony Snell is primed for a breakout season, but it remains to be seen whether he'll start at small forward or come off the bench to back up Butler. Either way, Snell will play a major role on this team as a guy who can not only score, but can also take some of the pressure off of Butler in guarding the other team's best perimeter players.

The Bulls' starting small forward, Mike Dunleavy, will start the season on the injured list after undergoing a low back microdiscectomy to address some issues he was having in the off-season.

With Dunleavy likely missing at least the first 4-6 weeks, this is an opportunity for last year's lottery pick, Doug McDermott, to emerge. McDermott, who essentially served a "red shirt" season in his first under Thibodeau, is a perfect fit for Hoiberg's offense, which relies heavily on the three-pointer. In the preseason, the Bulls averaged about 30 3-pointers per game, nearly eight more than last season's average, and McDermott has not only made more than anyone in the league, he's shooting it at 43 percent. While McDermott will likely start the year coming off the bench, Hoiberg has said he likes the scoring spark he brings to the second unit. He has an opportunity to really develop in this new system.

The Frontcourt

Chicago's crowded frontcourt is the big story heading into the season, returning Joakim Noah, Pau Gasol, Taj Gibson and Nikola Mirotic and adding talented rookie Bobby Portis. While Noah and Gasol may be the obvious choice given they started together last season, they also never quite found chemistry when they were on the court at the same time.

If it is chemistry you're looking for, a Gasol/Mirotic or Noah/Gibson combination appear to be the best bet, but there are issues with both. While Gasol and Mirotic will spread the floor and put up a lot of points, they are both defensive liabilities. And while Noah and Gibson will protect the hoop, neither has the ability to create their own shot. It will be something to monitor all season long as Hoiberg gets to know his team better.

And with only 96 total front court minutes to go around, where does Portis fit in? While it is easy to put him behind all four experienced players, Portis made a strong case for himself in the pre-season, averaging 12 points and over 10 rebounds per game. He is not only Hoiberg's first draft choice as head coach, he is another player who has size and can spread the floor. Don't be surprised if you see a mid-season trade involving one of these players, most likely Gibson or Noah, especially if Portis plays well.

In case of injury …

And as is the case every year, the Bulls will be defined by how healthy they are. The end of the Thibodeau era likely means an end to guys playing hurt or too many minutes, but as long as Rose and Noah are on the team, injuries will be a hot topic in Chicago.

If they can stay healthy, this team has a lot of depth. If Hoiberg can find the right combinations and still enforce enough defense to supplement their offensive fire power, the Bulls will be right there in the East come playoff time. This may be the last opportunity to win a title for this group as it is currently composed, but we are beginning to see the core emerge of the next Bulls era, and there is a lot to be excited about.

2015-10-26
]]>I Survived Teaching 7th Grade Hebrew Schoolhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27176&blogid=142
At the time, it seemed like a no-brainer. I could easily give up Sunday morning and Thursday evenings. I would be with an experienced co-teacher who could help me with the lesson plans. I had a curriculum and some general support from the administration. Best of all, I got paid. Teaching Hebrew school seemed like a great way to make some easy money.]]>Lindsey_22015-10-21T11:32:16ZAndy Kirschner

At the time, it seemed like a no-brainer. I could easily give up Sunday morning and Thursday evenings. I would be with an experienced co-teacher who could help me with the lesson plans. I had a curriculum and some general support from the administration. Best of all, I got paid. Teaching Hebrew school seemed like a great way to make some easy money.

As we prepared for the year, I was informed that I would be filling an opening in the seventh grade room. These kids had a lot of energy, I was told, but were basically good. Energy is good, I thought. I was excited for how my experience as a speaker, trainer and entertainer was going to be great for these kids. They were going to love me.

What I didn't account for was how much they would love to test me. They were bright and involved in sports, drama and other extra-curricular activities, but for some reason, when they walked into our classroom, all of that seemed to go away.

Hebrew school for them was a game of how much they could get away with. How many buttons could they push before I cracked under pressure?

The curriculum contained what I thought were rich discussion questions and interesting pieces to read, but something was lost in the delivery. Large group discussions resulted in contests to see which kid could grab the most attention by saying the most inappropriate things. The kids that actually did want to have meaningful discussion eventually gave up. Those that wouldn't stop talking eventually got sent to the office.

You can only send so many kids to the office and have so many authority figures (the education director, the Rabbi and so on) intervene before you wonder, who is really at fault? Is it the kids? Is it me?

As teachers, we made our share of mistakes that probably didn't help. One time we started to show them a Holocaust documentary without adequately warning their parents, which was probably not the best idea. The kids turned away at certain scenes and covered their eyes at others, and when we had them reflect in writing, it didn't go over so well. One of the kids wrote about how he was probably going to have nightmares now. Needless to say, we never finished watching the video.

We needed to try something different. Then it occurred to me -- a field trip. I had attended a fundraiser once at an equestrian center that specialized in helping children with disabilities. I found out they took volunteer groups to help clean the stables and help lead the horses around the ring. One of the volunteer coordinators had a connection to our synagogue, so we set up a special outing for our class.

For one thing, it was a relief to start our day without having to be "on" as teachers. We were able to just all relax up front, while the kids socialized.

After a tour of the facility during which the kids actually asked thoughtful questions, it was time to help out, and that's when you could really see the difference outside of the classroom.

One child was asked to lead a horse around the barn while a younger child who was maybe 6 or 7 years old rode the horse. My seventh grader smiled, the child on the horse smiled, and I think even the horse smiled. That much joy never happened back in the classroom.

More noticeably was how the experience impacted the kids who caused us the most grief back in the classroom. One of the volunteer tasks was shoveling the old hay out of the stalls so it could be replaced with fresh hay for the horses. Most of the kids recognized this was not the most glamorous of jobs and found ways to get picked for other assignments. The unlucky four were given shovels and a set of instructions. It wasn't more than a few scoops into their task that three of them stopped shoveling and started chatting. The fourth kid, however, who had behavioral challenges in the classroom all year long, was furiously shoveling hay. He was doubling his efforts to pick up the slack from his peers.

Getting the children to participate in the classroom was beyond pulling teeth, yet the kids who resisted formal learning the most were the most eager to jump in and participate at this barn. It was amazing to see how much had changed after a 45-minute bus ride. The change of scenery, or the fact that there was a clear connection between the work and helping others, made the difference.

The learning opportunities that worked best, it seemed, were the ones when I stopped trying so hard to get them to learn something and just let them discover and experience it for themselves.

Looking back, I learned a lot that year. The obvious lesson was that maybe I wasn't so cut out to teach seventh grade, but more importantly, I learned that training (my expertise) and teaching are different. Teaching involves transferring knowledge and a deeper understanding of what motivates learners to learn and requires more than energy and a sense of humor.

Would I teach Hebrew School again? I think I'll keep focusing on other pursuits that better reflect my talents. And when the time comes to think about my own children's Jewish education, however, I hope that their teachers will have already learned what I did that year.

2015-10-21
]]>This Yearhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27167&blogid=142
“This supposed to be ya'll year/we ain't get the memo.” This Nicki/Drake collaboration couldn't be more applicable to how and what I feel when I reflect on the happenings of any past year.]]>Lindsey_22015-10-19T15:29:15ZLauren Schmidt

"This supposed to be ya'll year/we ain't get the memo."

This Nicki/Drake collaboration couldn't be more applicable to how and what I feel when I reflect on the happenings of any past year. As I try to avoid sounding like the world's biggest pessimist, I am certain that no one in this world feels like his or her expectations are always met. Things that are meant to happen, that almost feel like they should happen serendipitously, often don't come through. Things fall through the cracks, people (myself included) fail, and events often don't occur in the fashion that any of us hoped for with the outcome that was originally anticipated. The grass is always greener on the other side and "next year" always carries promise to (hopefully) leave behind the trials, tribulations, and shortcomings of the past year, in an attempt to move forward.

Since it's nowhere close to the New Year, you're probably wondering why this rant now. Well, I'm a die-hard sports fan, and it goes beyond the sport itself.

I was crowned -- or cursed, depending how you look at it -- as a Cubs fan before I left the womb. I can't remember my first game or experience at Wrigley Field, but there is plenty that I can recall.

Baseball was always on in my house growing up. Some of the first memories I can recall are watching baseball with my dad in our den on our 1980s-style L-couch. As the firstborn of a dedicated sports fan, I think it was also decided that I had to like sports, and luckily for him, it was love at first pitch.

As a Cubs fan, it is clear that I understand disappointment. I understand the feeling of year after year expecting for it to be our year and suddenly it's halfway through the summer (if we're lucky) once we are mathematically out of it and we're already on to thinking about how the next year will be ours.

To be perfectly honest, sometimes I think my life mirrors the Cubs. I joke far too often about being cursed, about setbacks and frustrations, but trek on to the next step and opportunity. As far as people with bad luck go, I hope I fall into the category of being a lovable loser like my all-time favorite team.

With that being said, year after year as baseball season -- the best time of the year, by the way -- rolls around, I hope for the best and expect the worst. Year after year, we experience the high highs and the low lows. From watching the Bartman game in that same den where I watched my first baseball game and feeling the pain in my chest as we realized everything was unraveling, to the time I cried at a fraternity house when the Cubs lost their last postseason game in 2008 (mind you, I think this may have been one of maybe three times I have cried in public about anything besides death).

I've gone through the rocky emotional roller coaster that is being a Cubs fan alongside the best of them. I remember sitting in my apartment senior year watching the MLB '12 commercial, one that fantasized a Cubs World Series win, with tears streaming down my face thinking that it was too good to ever be true. (Disclaimer: I just teared up watching it again, which is mildly embarrassing, but I'm going with it).

Fast forward to now. This year has been different for the Chicago Cubs. For a year that has personally been filled with more downs than ups, it's been a relief that baseball has been a source of positive energy and hope, more so than I can ever remember. This season has been incredible. There has rarely, in my lifetime, been this many plays I have re-watched for positive reasons. I can't remember the last time the team as whole had this much energy, spirit, connection, and drive; I can't remember the last time Wrigley wasn't overflowing with anxiety. Although losing these first two games to New York has my nerves speaking a bit of a different language, it still holds true how special this team is.

Coming off of flying to Pittsburgh for the Wild Card game and attending Game 3 and 4 of the NLDS (side note: witnessing the Cubs clinch at Wrigley was one of the top five things I think I have ever experienced), I am hopeful. Although it's been a hard series thus far, I am confident that the next few games will be different at home. I'm not saying this is the year or that this isn't the year (mostly because I am superstitious and also, not a psychic), but what I am saying is that the Cubs are on their way.

Being a Cubs fan is about hope. It's about tradition. It's about loyalty. It's about dedication. It's about trust. It's about family. It's about a connection to a team that goes far beyond what happens on the field.

2015-10-19
]]>Terror in Tel Avivhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27161&blogid=142
The first thing they tell you after a terror attack is not to give in to fear. You must continue to live your life as you have always lived it. Keep taking buses, keep going to class, grab that drink after work; don’t let anyone know that you are afraid. ]]>Lindsey_22015-10-16T10:25:08ZJenna Cohen

Magen David Adom paramedics arriving at the scene of an attempted stabbing in the Afula bus station, October 9, 2015. (Magen David Adom)

The first thing they tell you after a terror attack is not to give in to fear. You must continue to live your life as you have always lived it. Keep taking buses, keep going to class, grab that drink after work; don't let anyone know that you are afraid. Don't even admit to yourself that you are afraid. Acknowledge fear and the terrorists win.

Well, sorry to Israel and sorry to the Jewish People at large, but I am a little bit afraid.

There has been a lot of tension in Tel Aviv over the last week as random acts of terror have gotten closer and closer to our doorstep. But the only concrete example I could ever find of this increased wariness was the behavior of individuals riding the public buses. It was the slightest change -- just a few extra pairs of eyes raised from smartphones and newspapers to examine fellow passengers. To an outsider, people-watching on the bus wouldn't raise any alarms, but, to me, those glances said it all: When ordinarily bus-goers are glued to their phones, this tiny change meant that people were taking inventory, that they saw cause to be aware.

On Oct. 8, the city's unspoken concerns were realized. I was grabbing a coffee with some friends during our break from Hebrew class when I saw four or five police vehicles whizz by towards the center of the city. As the sound of the sirens faded, I and everyone around me knew exactly what had happened. There was another attack, but this time it was in Tel Aviv. Playing it cool, my friends and I laughed and made our way back to the yeshiva, walking just a little bit faster than we would usually walk. By the time we made it back to class, our phones were already buzzing with safety alerts.

Now things are quiet, but the widespread sense of concern/frustration is unmistakable. (The latter sentiment not aided by Bibi Netanyahu's increased media presence.) There's not much to do but go about life as usual, and so we will.

But I will not do so pretending that everything is okay. I will be vigilant. I will avoid protests and crowds because I want to be around to experience this great county and to bring my experiences home. I truly believe this is a country worth knowing and fighting for, so I will be careful, in order to be its advocate for years to come.

2015-10-16
]]>Moment of Zenhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27157&blogid=142
Over the summer and now into the fall--and a brand new Jewish year--I've been waking up early in the morning a few times a week to make it to the lake to watch the sunrise. Blame insomnia for getting me out of bed, but there's a bright side to rising early.]]>Lindsey_22015-10-15T16:29:50ZCindy Sher

The author captured a moment of Zen on Lake Michigan on a recent morning at daybreak.

Over the summer and now into the fall -- and a brand new Jewish year -- I've been waking up early in the morning a few times a week to make it to the lake to watch the sunrise. Blame insomnia for getting me out of bed, but there's a bright side to rising early.

It's a quiet, still, and present moment, in contrast to the rest of the kinetic, noisy day. I call it my "Moment of Zen," coined by Jon Stewart.

Zen, defined in Urban Dictionary as "a total state of focus that incorporates a total togetherness of body and mind," is exactly what I feel as I sit on the dock looking out at the horizon.

I'll watch the sun dawn over the shimmering water. Each time, I'm struck by the light and beauty of the sky, a palette of oranges, yellows, and reds dancing together, each sunrise breathtaking and different than the one that came before it. It never gets old, something we all can depend on
-- literally like clockwork. The chores and work for the upcoming day seem far off as I'm enveloped by the peaceful majesty of the scene.

It's something we often taken for granted, but it's comforting to know, that in a world with so much uncertainty, we can depend on the sun rising every day. Can you imagine how relieved early cavemen, who were still learning how the world operated, must have felt every time the sun rose for another day?

For me, watching the sunrise is a spiritual experience. On that dock, my belief in God is reaffirmed. There's a prayer we say thanking God for creating the sun, called the
Birkat Hachama, the "Blessing of the Sun," and I think about that blessing in that quiet moment at dawn.

All the bad things happening to good people around the world, and the personal stresses of life -- the deadlines, the bad dates, the flood of demands, worries, disappointments, and all the other tsuris -- seem to melt away in that moment. What remain are serenity, light, hope, and peace. It's oddly reassuring to feel so tiny next to the big sky over that huge body of water. Our perspective shifts.

At a recent Shabbat service, the rabbi asked the crowd to search for the things that bring purpose to our lives. That dock feels like an extension of the synagogue's sanctuary. Out there, I'm inspired to think about what will bring meaning to the day ahead, and maybe even longer term. Our faith may be shaken and tested the day before, but every day is a new day with a clean slate, where our faith can renew itself.

Jews subscribe to the concept of free will; in fact, I believe each of us plays a role in shaping our own destiny. At the same time, at certain powerful moments in our lives, I find comfort in knowing, hoping, and keeping faith that some of the choices we make and that which is b'shert (destined), work in harmony. Perhaps some steps along our life's journey--what we're meant to do, who we're meant to meet, and who we're meant to become-are out of our hands, shaped by a force bigger than all of us.

When I watch a sunrise, I think about the things I can create and shape in life but, just as much, I think about the things I can't control. And that's kind of liberating.

So maybe you're not an insomnia-prone early riser. Maybe you relish as many minutes of zzz's as you can get before the alarm clock sounds. No problem. For one thing, there will be another spectacle in the sky later in the day -- called the sunset. Really, we're each in search for our own moments of Zen-and your moments may not include a sunrise or sunset. No two moments of Zen look exactly alike.

So many of our moments -- in contrast to watching a sunrise in solitude -- are less about the time or place, and more about the good people we surround ourselves with, the people we love most. Think back to a Moment of Zen you had recently with people you love. If you're lucky, you can count a lot of those moments in your memory.

And you know what? They rarely cost a penny.

2015-10-15
]]>Contain Yourselfhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27149&blogid=142
While they may look very different at first, most Jewish sacred or ritual items have something in common: They are containers.]]>Lindsey_22015-10-09T13:54:28Z

While they may look very different at first, most Jewish sacred or ritual items have something in common: They are containers.

Many are receptacles for food or drink: a seder plate, a Kiddush cup, a challah board, a Rosh Hashanah honey pot. A tzedakah box is a receptacle for, well, tzedakah. And a hand-washing cup, naturally, holds water.

Some are containers for light, like candlesticks or a menorah or a Havdalah-candle holder. Some are containers for words, like a
mezuzah
or
tefillin. Some are even containers for sounds, like a hollow shofar… or for scents, like a spice box.

Some objects are receptacles for our bodies, such as a
kipah
or
tallit. And then we just "put our whole selves in" a sukkah. That's what's it's all about, after all.

A few Jewish accessories, granted, do not fit this paradigm. A dreidel doesn't hold anything, nor does a
yad
(Torah pointer) -- you hold them. And while you may have a woven holder for the lulav, a palm frond itself is not a container. But even in these cases, Jewish ritual objects are not just for looking at. They are for interacting with.

Still, most Jewish objects
are
containers. The need for physical interaction with these objects is a metaphor for the emotional investment required for a spiritual experience to occur.

In other words: In order for this Jewish thing to work, you're going to have to put something into it.

2015-10-09
]]>Fall Nosh with a Jewish Twisthttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27141&blogid=142
Sandwiched between a shvitz and a shiver, fall is the perfect season. Not only do I love fall weather, which is often breezy and cool, I cannot get enough of the beautiful fall leaves and tasty treats that arrive with the season.]]>Lindsey_22015-10-08T11:20:49ZBlair Chavis

Sandwiched between a shvitz and a shiver, fall is the perfect season. Not only do I love fall weather, which is often breezy and cool, I cannot get enough of the beautiful fall leaves and tasty treats that arrive with the season.

As fall blows through Chicago and knocks all of the leaves off of the trees, I can't help but to crave cinnamon, pumpkin, apple and pecan.

I have a few recipes from family and friends to help ring in the season. These warm, spiced treats are sure to be crowd-pleasers at any fall gathering or occasion:

2015-10-08
]]>Wild Mushroom and Beef Stewhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27137&blogid=142
I grew up in Russia (technically Moldova, but we will leave the technicalities be for now). The winters were frigid -- and sometimes a bit depressing, as winters tend to be. Food was used to comfort the grumbling bellies and laughter was used to warm up from the inside out.]]>Lindsey_22015-10-07T13:49:50ZMila Furman

I grew up in Russia (technically Moldova, but we will leave the technicalities be for now). The winters were frigid -- and sometimes a bit depressing, as winters tend to be. Food was used to comfort the grumbling bellies and laughter was used to warm up from the inside out.

In Chi-Town our winters have always reminded me of Russia. Lots of snowy days with frosted windows and red noses. One day last year as I walked down my driveway and the snow crunched under my feet, I was reminded of cold winters as a little girl. I was always comforted by the savory scents of a stew slowly cooking away on the stove top as I ran into the house after playing all day in the snow. My mom, made the
best stews and pot roasts. She used fresh ingredients and simple flavors. And was always, she was able to make an amazing dish out of practically nothing.

On one of these very snowy days last year during a very long and dreary winter, hubs decided to give me the task of a mushroom stew. I just so happened to have bought some really nice mushrooms that I had no plans for. I went out and bought my favorite piece of beef cut -- a nice cut of chuck that has lots of marbling -- and went to work.

The result was an incredibly comforting stew with layers of simple flavors. I served it over my skinny smashers and felt a little better about my indulgence. At the end of a few days, when I still had some of the stew left, I placed it in a ziplock bag and froze it for another day.

This stew recipe is not really a recipe but more of a technique. Once mastered, this typical braising technique can be used in hundreds of different recipes.

1. We begin by cutting up our meat into medium bite-sized cubes and seasoning well with salt and pepper on both sides. Preheat a Dutch oven or a thick-bottomed pot with vegetable oil until it starts to smoke.

2. While you are at it, preheat the oven to 325-degrees.

3. Place the beef into the pot, making sure not to overcrowd the pan. Allow to brown on all sides.

4. In the meantime, wash and roughly chop your mushrooms. I used button, cremini, shitake and oyster mushrooms in this dish. If you use shitake mushrooms, make sure you remove and discard the stems as they are very woodsy and tough.

5. Dice up an onion while you are at it as well.

6. Check on the meat and remove once nice and brown. Set aside. You will have some fat and yummy bits on the bottom of the pot. Let it be. This is your flavor.

7. Add in the onions, a few cloves of garlic, a few stems of thyme, a bay leaf and mushrooms and toss to cover with the fat in the pot. Sautee for about 10 minutes.

8. Add the meat back into the pot and sprinkle evenly with one tablespoon of flour. Mix to combine until none of the flour remains.

9. Take about 1 cup of cognac and pour into a cup and then into the pot. NEVER POUR OUT OF THE BOTTLE! A flame can catch onto the bottle while pouring and the bottle will explode. (I have seen this happen, it's not a pretty sight.) Pour into a cup first then pour into the pot. You can either let it cook out or light the cognac on fire with a long match, or if the pot is shallow enough, tilt it toward the flame so it will catch on fire. Flaming it is a neat party trick :) This is also called deglazing.

10. Once all the alcohol has cooked out, about 3 minutes, you will be left with a beautiful glazed meat.

11. After 30 minutes, turn the heat down to 275-degrees and allow to cook for another 90 minutes or until meat is nice and tender.

2015-10-07
]]>Yom Kippur in Tel Avivhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27129&blogid=142
A little less than a month ago, I took a leap of faith and moved to Israel to participate in a 10-month volunteer/internship program called Tikkun Olam in Tel Aviv-Yaffo. The program gives me the extraordinary opportunity to intern for local non-profits and live alongside the communities my workplace serves.]]>Lindsey_22015-09-25T13:41:10ZJenna Cohen

A little less than a month ago, I took a leap of faith and moved to Israel to participate in a 10-month volunteer/internship program called Tikkun Olam in Tel Aviv-Yaffo. The program gives me the extraordinary opportunity to intern for local non-profits and live alongside the communities my workplace serves.

I also have the opportunity to do something I've never done before: celebrate the Jewish holidays in a country full of Jews; to pray and laugh and eat in a community where Judaism is actually mainstream.

But to my disappointment, my first holidays in Israel, Shabbat and Rosh Hashanah, didn't feel all that different from any other weekday. There were fewer busses and most of the shops in my area were closed, but beyond that it was just an ordinary day. If you weren't familiar with the usual commercial traffic patterns of Tel Aviv, you'd never know that anything was different. As a result, I took my
ulpan
teacher's promise that Yom Kippur would be "unlike anything I had ever experienced before" with a grain of salt. It turned out that his promise was good.

Set apart from all other Jewish holidays, Yom Kippur -- the Day of Atonement -- brings all daily activity in Israel to a grinding halt. From sunset to sunset on this holy day, all businesses, schools and streets closed, causing even sleepless cities like Tel Aviv to grow quiet for a little while.

But as night fell on Erev Yom Kippur, the country's atmosphere of quiet contemplation gave way to waves of joyous sound as people filed out from their synagogues and homes and filled the streets. Children whizzed by on bicycles while their parents strolled arm in arm up the boulevard. Friends and neighbors all dressed in white met with kisses on cheeks and eager embraces. Bus stops and street corners became community living rooms, complete with cheerful old men stretched out on plastic lawn furniture, and traffic signals blinked comically unnoticed in the distance. Only when the approaching sun lent a bit of color to the sky did the people return to bed. Even I, a passionate sleeper, stayed up late to listen to soak up the musical chatter in the streets. How could I sleep when the world felt so alive? What if I went to sleep and the whole night turned out to be a dream?

But it wasn't a dream. Early the next morning the streets back came to life with shul-goers and cyclists in a fusion of old and new that only Israel could support. I became a part of that fusion on my way to Torah study when my neighbor's grandchildren challenged me to a bicycle race -- an invitation that, of course, I accepted. On our bikes we flew up and down the carless streets of Tel Aviv dodging teens playing soccer near the entrance ramps to Israel's empty expressways.

After class, I made my way home to help prepare food for the break-fast with my roommates. As I biked through my neighborhood, the smell of spiced meat and baking bread filled the air as other families prepared too. The chefs occasionally looked up from their work to shout holiday greetings to passersby from their open windows.

As night fell, my roommates and I made our way to the Sephardic synagogue a few blocks from our apartment. We were obviously late for the evening service as by this point in the evening no one was left on the streets. When we arrived at the synagogue, it was standing-room only, but somehow, the ladies in the women's section made room for us. They slapped siddurs in our hands already opened to the right page in the service. Every so often, the same ladies would peek over their shoulder to make sure we hadn't lost our place.

Before long, shofars bellowed out from all corners of the city and just like that Yom Kippur was over -- or so we thought. But it turned out that the communal spirit of Yom Kippur wasn't done with us just yet. As my friends and I shuffled out of the synagogue we were stopped multiple times by women of the congregation who wanted to make sure that we had somewhere to go for dinner. In fact, even after explaining that we had food prepared at home, our doorbell still rang that evening with smiling neighbors holding out pots of food for us to taste.

It turned out that my
ulpan
teacher was right. But at the end of the day, the parts I will remember the most about this Yom Kippur are not the carless streets or the closed up shops. Instead they will be the people I met and the kindness they showed me on what happened Judaism's holiest day. But it is a kindness that I know will last and remain special any old day of the week.

2015-09-25
]]>Journey Back Into Imaginationhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27123&blogid=142
Come with me, and you will see, my world thrown back into imagination with just one spark. Yes, journey with me on a discovery that was more of a re-discovery. For I want to tell you a tale.]]>Lindsey_22015-09-24T15:38:12ZAdam Daniel Miller

Come with me, and you will see, my world thrown back into imagination with just one spark. Yes, journey with me on a discovery that was more of a re-discovery. For I want to tell you a tale. A tale of fencing! Of fighting! Of torture! Revenge! Giants! Monsters! Chases! Escapes! True love! Miracles -- wait a second! That's
The Princess Bride. Wrong tale. Moving on!

This tale is about something within me that was long forgotten yet greatly missed. I am of course talking about -- my imagination. (I thought I had a more clever way to reveal that, but it must've been a figment of my imagination). The year was 20 aught 15. The month, the Ember of Sept. The day, not really important.

I was in the land of Kalamazoo, which as it turns out is a city and not a zoo known as Kalama. I went to the city on a personal journey of self-discovery. I also brought along my girlfriend. Our self-discovery was to find beer. And while beer was found during our self-discovery (and in quite the abundance), t'was the stop between beer discoveries that has had some truly significant significance.

For you see, there was a museum or wonders at the heart of this city, lying right under the lungs but above the stomach. What drew me there was not only the price of the admission (free), or that it was on our beer excursion walking route, but it was that they had one very special exhibit.

Tinkertoys. That's right, toys of the tinkering kind.

A love letter, or rather a love exhibit, was on display encompassing the joy and exhilaration of that carefree building toy of yesteryear. I was reeled in by the bright colors, the elaborate displays, the fact that I had accidentally grabbed a fishing lure and the want -- nay, need -- to build using my imagination. It was a feeling I hadn't experienced in quite some time.

I've always loved building toys. I grew up a lover of K'nex; I was never as big into LEGOs, which is very characteristic of my personality to go against the popular thing. (This is how I rebelled.) But that non-specified day in the Zoo known as Kalama, I found my long-neglected need to fully explore my imagination no longer remained dormant.

That day my girlfriend and I built a great many things. Fireworks, bazookas, lollipops, throwing stars (or starfish, depending on who you asked) a zoo I named Kalama as well as abundance of memories. And during the course of being reunited with my imagination, I was additionally being reunited with other Tinkertoy enthusiasts (read: toddlers) that I had to contend with to get the best pieces to build my imaginary deluxe-sized abacus made of Twizzlers that uses doughnuts instead of wooden beads and requires a verbal passphrase to unlock as well as a retinal scan from a pet. Not just anyone can use it, you know.

The moral of this tale, as all tales come conveniently packaged with a moral, is that I should never lose sight of my imagination again. To take it a step further, I should even take time out of my busy, adult-stuff-centric schedule to explore what my much more mature imagination has to offer.

Playing with those Tinkertoys was like a wakeup call. Well, actually, not that. Wake up calls are a nuisance. Let's see, um … it was like diving into a pool full or marshmallow fluff! In other words, it was a realization that my imagination is still there, with much more to explore, or as my adult version might say, much more to be tapped. Heh heh. (Because this started off as a discovery for beer. I used my imagination good on that one.)

I've begun to realize that reconnecting with my imagination is more than just daydreaming. It's making something great out of something that came entirely from within my own thoughts, ideas and dreams and then playing with it. I love where my imagination can take me when I use it for the fun stuff, because the fun stuff has no stress, no anxiety and no limitations. As I said, it's more than daydreaming -- it's finding my dreams by using my imagination, because with my imagination, a dream can be a dream come true.

2015-09-24
]]>The Confessionhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27114&blogid=142
Yom Kippur is "Judgment Day," and there is a prayer that repeats over and over again throughout the many services of the holiday called Vidui, or "The Confession." Every year when I go to shul for Yom Kippur, my heart beats a little faster when the Vidui comes up in the liturgy.]]>Lindsey_22015-09-21T12:56:29ZAndy Kirschner

Yom Kippur is "Judgment Day," and there is a prayer that repeats over and over again throughout the many services of the holiday called
Vidui,
or "The Confession."
Every year when I go to shul for Yom Kippur, my heart beats a little faster when the
Vidui
comes up in the liturgy. I rise to my feet and pound my chest with my fist, while uttering the long list of sins that I may or may not have been guilty of committing. I once heard that the point is to confess to the entire list because even if I didn't do it, someone in my community did and I am just as much responsible for their sins as my own.

As someone who has worked to make transformative change in his life over the last 10 years, I would love to be able to stand up on this Yom Kippur and say I have nothing left to confess, but that would never be possible.

Every year I come to contemplate and confess my wrongs and just like millions of other Jews, every year I know that I'll be back again next year. I won't ever be perfect in the coming year and I'll always be guilty of something that I promised to never do again.

No matter how hard I beat my chest on Yom Kippur, my inner demons still remain. My story of losing over 100 pounds, building a successful career, paying off thousands in debt and finding true love is not about leaving the "old me" behind and forging ahead as a completely new soul. Instead, it's about figuring out the right routines and strategies to keep that negative side that was dragging me down in check.

When I show up for Yom Kippur, dressed in traditional white, I bring all of my soulful and sinful self to pray. There is still a very large 300-pound man inside of me. All he wants to do is sit on the couch and eat cookies. He doesn't care about putting his health first. There is still a very lazy, unmotivated college student inside of me, and he doesn't want to stop playing video games to finish his work. He doesn't care that people might be depending on him. And there is still a snarky teenager, ready to make jokes at the expense of others' feelings.

Judaism uses the word
tshuvah
to mean repentance, but
tshuvah
really comes from the word for "return." When I think about the metaphor of returning, I might leave a place behind, but I still have to bring my whole self with me. I have to come clean about who I was and what I have done and bring the lessons from my mistakes. All of that informs my new perspective so that I may return to my true path. The path that I would like to think leads me down the road to a sweet new year.

Shana Tova Tikateivu --
may you have a good year and be inscribed in the Book of Life.

2015-09-21
]]>Shul Fashion Guidehttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27110&blogid=142
The High Holidays allow me time to reflect on my past year and dream of a new year filled with endless possibilities of the person I can become and accomplishments I can achieve.]]>Lindsey_22015-09-18T15:24:49ZCarly Gerber

Dress by MIMU MAXI. Photo credit: Alexanna Cox

The High Holidays allow me time to reflect on my past year and dream of a new year filled with endless possibilities of the person I can become and accomplishments I can achieve. But to be completely honest … I also love attending synagogue during this time of year to admire the outfits of the other fashionable congregants.

So, I've created a list of shul fashion dos and don'ts for this Yom Kippur, so you can look smashing while repenting.

Crop Tops Should be Cropped Out

There are many women who wear these tummy-barring tops while exuding the utmost class and confidence (i.e.
Jessica Alba). But, I believe these tops should be saved for, let's say, hanging out with friends.

Clothe Those Kickers

Call me old-fashioned, but I believe the knee should be hard to see when wearing a skirt in shul. I'm all for a short skirt or dress being balanced by a more modest top half (Heidi Klum is an expert at this), but synagogue is not the place to strut those barre legs.

Having a difficult time finding longer skirts or dresses? One of my favorite labels is
MIMU MAXI. It was founded by two Orthodox sister-in-laws who design modest yet fashionable clothes.

Skivvies Should be a Secret

This piece of advice goes out to both the ladies and gentlemen. Your undergarments should be out of site. Synagogue is not the place to pull out your inner
Kim Kardashian
with the exposed undergarment look.

The High Holidays are a time to rebuild oneself, but it never hurts to look fabulous while doing it. L'shanah tovah and easy fasting!

2015-09-18
]]>Busting Plateaushttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27106&blogid=142
One of the “it” phrases in the fitness world is muscle confusion. If you stay up late enough and watch a few infomercials, you are bound to hear some meathead selling a DVD using this buzz word. I hear muscles get really confused with algebra… ]]>Lindsey_22015-09-17T15:07:51ZRon Krit

One of the "it" phrases in the fitness world is muscle confusion. If you stay up late enough and watch a few infomercials, you are bound to hear some meathead selling a DVD using this buzz word. I hear muscles get really confused with algebra…

In all seriousness, your muscles adapt to how you train. If you are doing the same workout day after day, your body will get used to it and suddenly you stop getting stronger, faster, leaner, etc. Eventually everyone hits a plateau, and then it's time for a change. The change can subtle or drastic. I usually make big changes because boredom sets in. A few changes you can make:

1. Slow down
2. Circuits
3. Unilateral training

Slow Down

I got a little crazy recently and confused my muscles by weight training more slowly. Normally when you are pumping iron, you throw the weight up on the faster end, albeit controlled but still quickly. My workout was similar to the
Super Slow
method where you bring the weight up on a 10 second count, and lower the weight the same.

I loved Super Slow training! It was a little hard on my shoulder for certain exercises, but it was an intense burn. Fun fact, this was the first method I used to train people when I was in college. The program I used was one exercise per body part, and we went to failure on each set. Here's a sample workout:

A circuit is a workout where you move from one exercise to another with little break. Most workout videos are done like this. A lot of bootcamps are also done in this fashion. What's great about it, is you can make every circuit different. When I design a workout like this, I use a balanced approach, i.e. for every chest exercise there should be a back exercise. Another benefit to this style is it can combine cardio training for your heart, with anaerobic training for your muscles if you don't rest between exercises. And since everyone is calorie-burning crazy these days, this workout will achieve that goal too. Here's a sample circuit:

Run from one exercise to the next. Take a 1-2 minute break when you finish all exercises, and repeat the circuit 2-4 times.

Unilateral Training

It sounds fancy, but it's just training one arm or leg at a time. If you are bicep curling, you do your left arm first and then your right arm. I like this because you can work on strength balancing. Most of us have one arm or leg that's stronger; with this type of training you can do an extra set if you need to on the weaker side. Another reason I like this type of programing is it helps with balance when you do single-leg squats, leg press and deadlifts. A kettlebell works well with this type of training. Sample program:

Do each exercise 10 times on one side and then switch. Because it takes a while to do one side and then the other, I would only do two sets of each exercise and then move on to the next exercise.

There are millions of ways to confuse your muscles, I recommend mixing up your routine every 4-6 weeks. If you go to a gym that has classes, try a different teacher or new class. Have fun, and of course only exercise if you are healthy enough and cleared by your doctor.

2015-09-17
]]>Sanctuary on the Edens Expresswayhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27102&blogid=142
I absolutely love working at Temple Jeremiah, and I also love the neighborhood where I live -- Lakeview, almost 20 miles away from Jeremiah. For many, an hour-long commute could seem like a nightmare; but for me, it’s my own personal sanctuary.]]>Lindsey_22015-09-16T15:50:41ZLia Lehrer

I absolutely love working at Temple Jeremiah, and I also love the neighborhood where I live -- Lakeview, almost 20 miles away from Jeremiah. For many, an hour-long commute could seem like a nightmare; but for me, it's my own personal sanctuary.

I am constantly on the go, running from one thing to the next. I rarely take time to sit and just "be" -- it doesn't fit into my schedule. But for two hours a day, in my car, I'm sitting, relaxing, and enjoying "me time" by myself. I don't think I realized it until now, but it is truly a blessing.

In the mornings, I listen to audiobooks. I love to read, and audiobooks allow actors to bring characters' voices to life -- and my book list tells me that I've listened to more than 80 audiobooks (ask me for recommendations!).

In the evenings, I call my mom. We chat daily for almost an hour, sharing stories from our day, and, recently, getting excited about wedding planning details. I truly treasure this time for us, and it feels like she's right there with me in my driving tour of the Chicago suburbs.

While many people grumble in traffic jams and are filled with road rage, I think about the sanctuary that my car has become. It's my time to think; it's my time to relax; it's my time to make connections with my mom and other relatives and friends; it's my time to lose myself in a good book as it transports me to other countries, other times, and other cultures.

Sometimes if highway traffic is bad, I drive down Sheridan Road, with beautiful mansions on one side and a sparkling, shimmering lake on the other. I take a deep breath and just relax.

2015-09-16
]]>New Year. New Mindset. New Results.http://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27098&blogid=142
Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year and the Day of Judgment, is upon us. And it’s kind of a funny day. No, being judged for the year is not so funny, but if you look at our customs for the day, you’ve got to wonder what’s going on; we have these huge festive meals on the Day of Judgment. ]]>Lindsey_22015-09-10T15:13:39ZJoshua Marder

Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year and the Day of Judgment, is upon us. And it's kind of a funny day. No, being judged for the year is not so funny, but if you look at our customs for the day, you've got to wonder what's going on; we have these huge festive meals on the Day of Judgment.

Yes, we're Jews -- we use any excuse we can come up with to eat. But it's Judgment Day! What's with the five-course meals? And you would think on Judgment Day we're going to have a real heart-to-heart conversation with our Creator about all the things we've done wrong and how we're going to change this year. I dare you to go look for that in the prayer book. You won't find it. It's actually forbidden to talk about our sins on Rosh Hashanah. What's up with that? Are we trying to pull a fast one on the Almighty as if it never happened? And what's with the shofar blast? It's a cry? A coronation? What's the connection?

Rosh Hashanah is commemorating creation. Actually, no Jewish holiday is just a "commemoration." They are actually reenactments (most notably the Passover seder). Rosh Hashanah is a reenactment of creation. Here's a quick Jewish trivia question for you: True or false? Rosh Hashanah celebrates the creation of the world.

Rosh Hashanah is actually the sixth day of creation which is the day Man and Woman were created. So technically, false. If every Jewish holiday is a reenactment then it follows that we are annually recreating ourselves on this Day of Judgment. And it's an opportunity we don't want to miss.

So back to the lavish meals, the shofar and not mentioning sin. The reasons all related to the question of how does a person truly change, or in context, truly create? Do we change by focusing on the past and wallowing in the pain of our mistakes? Will that inspire us to become better people? No. In fact, this actually prevents us from changing. So Rosh Hashanah is a setup for success. There's no mention of past errors.

We don't successfully change by changing our behaviors. We can't. Rather, we have to change ourselves first. Then we can change our behaviors.

I heard this beautiful idea recently from a friend, Charlie Harary. He explained that people think the way to change is to start with your behaviors and eventually you will become a new person. But it's the other way around.

If I decide I want to be more patient with my children, I have to perceive myself as a patient person. Only then can I begin to structure my behaviors in a more patient way. Otherwise, if I still see myself as an impatient person trying to fake patience, it won't work (just a hypothetical example …). If I decide to be more kind, I have to take on that quality as a part of my essence or my kind behavior will conflict with my unkind core.

To change the self-perceptions that will lead to behavior change, we have to stop beating our core up. Every time we smack ourselves for something wrong we've done, we're in essence saying to ourselves, "You are such a bad person! You always do X, Y, & Z!" And we believe it. So on Rosh Hashanah, the day of recreating ourselves, there's no beating up on ourselves.

Secondly, when we accomplish something great we celebrate. It helps concretize the accomplishment. And what greater accomplishment is there in the world beyond changing one's core? If we're really tapping into our inner greatness and potential, there's nothing worth celebrating more than that. Big festive meals are quite apropos on such an occasion.

Ultimately, we are confronted with the overwhelming question of whether a person can truly change; not just our behaviors, but our true selves. I believe we can, by believing we can and by putting every ounce of existence into this effort. That's what the cry of the shofar is about. It's not a mournful cry, but a cry of passion and core strength. It's the age-old cry of our people for thousands of years striving to change and become the greatest Jewish man or woman they could be. It is our own cry for this wish. It is the cry of our ancestors all the way through to our great-grandparents and into us. The shofar ignites the strength inside us, allowing us to reach our soul's strength to truly change. Then, the blast becomes a coronation. It's a coronation for a new reality. It's the new way we see the world as our new selves.

I would like to personally invite you to join me on Rosh Hashanah at the CTN Rosh Hashanah Experience as we discuss the idea of recreating ourselves along with many other beautiful High Holiday insights together on these upcoming beautiful Days of Awe. A happy beautiful new year of true change and creation for all!

2015-09-10
]]>Wakeup callhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27085&blogid=142
Close your eyes and imagine yourself in the synagogue listening to the blasting of the shofar, something some of us will be doing just days from now.]]>Lindsey_22015-09-08T13:40:17ZCindy Sher

Close your eyes and imagine yourself in the synagogue listening to the blasting of the shofar, something some of us will be doing just days from now.

Feel the power of the sound -- the staccato notes, the longer notes, and the really really long note -- reverberate throughout the sanctuary.

The sounding of the shofar (ram's horn trumpet) on Rosh Hashanah serves as a wakeup call for the Jewish people, a chance to start over with a clean slate.

Maimonides describes the wakeup call: "Arise you who are fast asleep, and awaken you who slumber," he writes. "Search your deeds, repent, and be mindful of your Creator…"

Now close your eyes again, and this time, look back at the year behind you.

Did you live a year that mattered, and did you fill it with meaning? Did you laugh easily? Did you connect with someone new? Did you cultivate deeper connections with people you already knew? Did you chat with the barista at your coffee house? Did you smile at children?

Did you look up from toggling between apps on your phone to watch a setting sun or notice a full moon? Were you brave enough to take some risks and leap -- even if you were scared? Did you dance? Did you say sorry, and mean it, to someone you hurt? Did you wander slowly through the rain? Did you notice lady bugs?

Did you honor your parents, your grandparents, and other people who helped form you into the person you are today? Did you think about how your food gets from the land to your plate? Did you treat your body as a temple -- at least some of the time? Did you stand up for the things that matter to you and stick up for people who needed it?

Were you sensitive to the pain and bloodshed of others that you heard about in the news -- in Chicago, in Israel, and around the world? Were you present? Did you teach your children to be kind to people, to animals, and to the earth? Did you give
tzedakah (charity)? Did you give thanks each day for something in your life? When you spoke about other people, were you thoughtful about what you chose to say?

Did you appreciate the fact that someone always has it worse than you do, and did you recognize that you're luckier than most people in this world? Were you honest? Did you trust?

Did you give yourself a break about the things beyond your control? Did you value the sacrifices of your ancestors that made the world a better place? Were you a mentor to anyone? Did you open your mind and listen to people whose beliefs and ideas are different from your own? Did you let a baby's tiny hand grasp your finger? Did you give big tips? Did you visit someone sick? Did you read and learn about something new? Did you do something you didn't really feel like doing because you knew it would make someone else happy?

Did you stand and say the Mourner's Kaddish prayer for someone you loved and lost, or did you say it alongside someone else who lost a loved one? Did you learn a new skill? Did you smell rosemary, pinewood, vanilla, or cinnamon? Did you invite a guest to come and share your Shabbat table? Did you dream big?

Okay, now that you've looked back over the past year, close your eyes again -- but this time look ahead to next year.

How will you fill your life and the lives of others with spirituality, meaning, and love? Who will you surround yourself with?

As Jewish year 5775 comes to a close, let's take stock -- and awaken from our slumber -- and then press reset for a new year.

Wishing you and your loved ones a year ahead filled with health, happiness, sweetness, fulfillment, and peace.

2015-09-08
]]>The Title Ain’t Vitalhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27081&blogid=142
I can’t forget that cloud of gray coiffured hair breezing beside Madison Street Bridge. Tell me you saw her too, perched on the florescent Home Depot bucket, in a stylish purple top that matched her pomegranate lips.]]>Lindsey_22015-09-03T12:30:50ZEliana Block

I can't forget that cloud of gray coiffured hair breezing beside Madison Street Bridge. Tell me you saw her too, perched on the florescent Home Depot bucket, in a stylish purple top that matched her pomegranate lips. Tell me you couldn't stop staring at her either, that this living Mona Lisa didn't penetrate you in a way that made your throat croak a heartbeat and eyes well-up. Shouldn't she be on her way to work like the thousands crossing the bridge and not holding up a sign that reads, "Please help me find a job"? Tell me she smiled at you too.

"Oh, so you've met Bonnie."

My dad said he's passed by her for years on his daily commute. He stops sometimes and they chat over peanut butter Chewy bars. Did I know that it was common for commuters to stop and offer Bonnie a job? No I didn't -- so why is she still there then?

We parted and my dad and I picked up the conversation around the dinner table. What if I interviewed her, her and a bunch of other homeless people around the Chicago Loop? I'd go around asking how they got to where they are, and just schmooze. I'd write up an article and pitch it the
Chicago Tribune -- wouldn't that be cool?

My dad said I could call it "Bonnie By the Bridge." He smiled, clearly pleased with his alliteration. I mulled over the title, which had a Southern simplicity to it. I liked it.

But within the week, my idea invited fruit flies who were attracted to the smell of rotting reservations. How could I verify that my sources were credible? Would I be compromising my own safety by initiating conversation with strangers? What message was I trying to portray? Was it ethical to use another's financial struggle to push my own professional agenda forward?

My two years in journalism taught me that while titles hook the reader in, it's the story that keeps the reader reading. Sometimes, I realized, we are more transfixed by the title than the actual story -- and the same can often be true when it comes to Jewish observance.

---------

For the past three years, I've been privileged to share nearly every Sunday morning with the same
chevruta, or learning buddy, reading the identical text from our year in Israel. Each Sunday we size-up our coarse Hebrew skills against Oral Law and Biblical codex, exploring topics like the step-by-step process of brit milah, Judaism's squeamish vendetta against the descendants of Amalek
and why the Passover loopholes of selling
chametz
actually work. Currently, we're uncovering the rationale behind our Jewish "fringes."

After discussing the significance of the garb -- how the strings and precise knotting reminds us of the 613 commandments -- I looked at my friend's pixelated face and declared that I was going to start wearing
tzizit. Mind you, I'm allowed one hasty remark weekly during our sessions before my
chevruta
usually ends up airlifting me back to less choppy waters. This was it.

Talking over my reasons for wanting to wear
tzizit, I realized I wasn't cut out for the fringed linen cut-out. Women have every right to wear
tzizit, and they have my wholehearted blessing if they wear them to enhance spirituality, but these impassioned few must be impervious to stares. They would have to maintain the same conviction and determination day after day in their own practice to deflect the raised-eyebrow looks, the mommy-skirt tugs, and the not-another-bra-burner eye-rolls.

I realized that I wasn't that resolute, and so I closed the Torah text feeling like I had just eaten a tub of Ben and Jerry's the day after New Year's. Through it though, I realized how awfully proud I am of the male role models in my life who openly wear
kippot
and/or
tzizit.

I was caught up in the glorified title of being a
tzizit-wearer, a feminist, a "spiritual Jew" without truly considering the full story. I was all too focused on the hoorah of declaring my right to wear them instead of envisioning the reality of wearing them and the conviction it would require.

----------

During my first few weeks at college I remember telling one of my best friends that the Jews here call themselves "Orthodox" but don't necessarily look or act like other "Orthodox" people I've ever met. I remember tensing up about Orthodox Jews saying they "eat dairy out" but keep their kitchens strictly kosher, or women who change into bikinis for sun-bathing on Shabbat afternoons but make it to minyan almost every week. These anomalies used to hurt my brain and prickle my scalp -- now they barely make me wince.

During a recent Shabbat I was wore a short sleeve dress with only a mild V-neck in front. The real testiness was in the back with a deep cut plunge. To synagogue I was respectful and wore a cardigan, but the 90-degree heat proved too overbearing by the time I got home, so I shook it off with a sigh of relief. The visible skin did not go unnoticed; it pains me to say that the clash of being a respectful child while determining my matured self-expression is an ongoing battle.

But for now I've stopped being startled by the different versions of Orthodoxy there are, and whether you call that becoming "open-minded" or "desensitized" is up to you. Because "Orthodox" is just another word like "tree" or "feline," which bear altering images to each and every person.

In life we can't live by these titles -- "Orthodox," "feminist," "homeless," etc. -- when the stories are in people.

2015-09-03
]]>Interview with Jewish boxer Cletus Seldinhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27071&blogid=142
Meet the newest Jewish boxing sensation, Cletus Seldin. He isn't just hard-hitting, he is repping the Jewish people hard too. Take notice!]]>Lindsey_22015-08-31T16:09:30ZJeremy Fine

Meet the newest Jewish boxing sensation, Cletus Seldin. He isn't just hard-hitting, he is repping the Jewish people hard too. Take notice!

1. Tell us a little bit about yourself.

I grew up in Shirley, N.Y., which is a working-class neighborhood in Eastern Long Island. I graduated from Longwood High School and I played multiple sports through my years there. I was the starting cornerback on the 2004 Long Island championship team, I was a second-in-the state-wrestler, played lacrosse … I held the state record for a deadlift of 470 pounds at 145 pounds, and I took fifth place in the Eastern USA regionals bodybuilding competition. Don't mess with me when the Dallas Cowboys are on and I'm a food connoisseur. Outside of the ring I'm a really laid back, fun guy to be around, but when I work, I work hard and I don't let anything get in the way.

2. How did you get into boxing?

I started boxing around 2005 after my brother took me with him to the MMA gym where he attended. I was actually pretty good naturally because of my wrestling background and believe it or not, I tapped out the Sensei my first day there. I even worked my way up to a brown belt in Judo. But what I found out was that my stand-up fighting ability was pretty bad. There was a local boxing gym in Shirley that trained a couple big name guys and they had a really good amateur reputation in the Golden Gloves. When I started there I was getting knocked around pretty good by experienced amateurs until made a decision to start going every single day until I was beating those same guys, and that's what I did. I started winning exhibitions and winning amateur competitions and now the rest is history.

3. Have you ever considered going into MMA or wrestling?

MMA, yes. Before I started boxing, like I said earlier, I was doing MMA training. But once I started excelling in boxing, I haven't really looked back toward MMA. I can't say that I never will in the future, but as of now I am 100 percent committed to boxing. As for WWE, nope, never really crossed my mind.

4. How did you get the nickname The Hebrew Hammer?

The Hebrew Hammer alias started when I was still competing as an amateur. I was going to all of these tournaments and people started noticing my really hard-hitting right hand. They would say "Wow, that kid has a hammer. What is he, I don't know. Umm, I think he's Jewish. Yeah he's got a hammer, The Hebrew Hammer." And that was it, I'd go here, they said it, and I'd go there they'd say it and eventually I just stuck with it. I'm the Hebrew Hammer.

5. What was your Jewish life like growing up?

There are very few Jewish people in the town and in the schools where I grew up. So there was plenty of misinformation and Jewish banter. Nothing really offensive, it was more ignorant humor type of stuff and you learn to adapt. But I was a tough little kid back then. Small but tough, and eventually everyone realized that if you said something that I really didn't like, you were going to have to answer for it, or fight. But I did like growing up in a Jewish household. It makes you feel part of something special and you have a certain insight that can't be learned. We weren't terribly religious, but we kept the holiday traditions, I had a bar mitzvah, and everyone in my family all have Hebrew names as well.

6. What is next for Cletus Seldin?

The next step for me is to become a contender for a World Championship Title shot. I feel ready whenever they are. Ultimately, I want to fight anyone in the world at 140 pounds with a belt. I want to fight them all and I want all the belts.

7. What does life look like after boxing?

If I can get another three or four solid years out of my career as a boxer, that would be great. ;Right now I'm in top shape, I feel excellent, and I can easily fight at least 4-6 times a year. As for life after boxing, I don't know with certainty where this road is taking me now, so I couldn't tell you where it'll take me then. But I can tell you that I've always been solid on my own two feet, so wherever I do end up after boxing you can expect good things.

8. What else should we know about you?

Fans should know that I do what I do not only for myself, but I do it to represent a part of every hard-working American, and everyone with dreams, ambition, drive, and the courage to do what it takes to get where you want to be.

2015-08-31
]]>Let’s create an American Jewish holidayhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27065&blogid=142
With the Jewish holiday season fast approaching, perhaps this is a good time to ask: Why are there no Jewish holidays based on events in American Jewish history?]]>Lindsey_22015-08-28T15:21:31Z10 historic events worth honoringPaul Wieder

With the Jewish holiday season fast approaching, perhaps this is a good time to ask: Why are there no Jewish holidays based on events in American Jewish history?

We have Jewish holidays for events that happened in Persia (Purim), Egypt (Passover), Europe (Yom HaShoah) … even in no-man's land (Sukkot). We have holidays about ancient-Israel events that took place under the rule of the Romans (Lag Ba'Omer), Greeks (Chanukah) and Babylonians (various fasts).

Sure, many of our holidays celebrate events in the Torah, but we create new holidays all the time. Modern Israel has three (Yom HaAtzmaut, Yom HaZikaron and Yom Yerusahalyim), and there are people alive today older than the Jewish State itself.

So where are
our
holidays? Are American Jews not part of Jewish history? Can you even talk about "Jewish history" without taking about American Jewish history?

Jewish American Heritage Month
is nice, but a bit vague. In attempting to encompass all of the Jewish American experience, it spreads itself too thin. It's also not a part of the Jewish religious calendar, like the history-based Purim or Chanukah.

It's time to rectify this situation. Here are 10 Jewish-American events significant enough to warrant a Jewish holiday celebrated by Jews everywhere:

American Jewry Day
Jews won the right to settle in New Amsterdam and establish a Jewish community in
1655, and on this day, we celebrate the relationship of American Jews with their country -- for all its faults, easily the strongest between the Jews and a Diaspora country in history.

Jewish Rights Day
Jews achieved political equality in all 50 U.S. states in 1877, and today we appreciate our rights and pledge to continue our efforts toward equal human and civil rights for all.

Triangle Fire Remembrance Day
A solemn day for remembering the
Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire
of 1911, and redoubling our efforts to ensure fair and safe working conditions everywhere.

Justice Day
Louis Brandeis
was appointed to the U.S. Supreme Court in 1916 becoming the first Jew ever nominated for the Court, let alone to serve on it -- and in his name we honor all that Jews have done to bring justice and the rule of law to America and the world.

Immigrants Day
Today, we remember the racist Immigrant Acts of
1921 and
1924, which closed America to East European Jews and others, and advocate for immigrant rights.

Civil Rights Day
In 1964, Congress and LBJ passed the
Civil Rights Act. On this day, we honor all Jews who strove for civil rights in America and worldwide, and pledge to follow suit.

Jews in the Arts Week (8 days, of course):
The contribution of American Jews to the
world(s) of art
are incalculable. We would take a whole week to celebrate achievements in painting, sculpture, music, dance, theater, film, poetry, prose and comedy.

Rebecca Gratz Day
In honor of this pioneering Jewish woman, we recognize all the achievements of Jewish women to American history and culture, and renew our commitment to women's rights.

Soviet Jewry Day
The Exodus of a
million
Soviet Jews from behind the Iron Curtain is celebrated and the story of their liberation retold, including the American Jewish role. This, certainly, is an historic landmark of Biblical proportions and deserves a formal holiday.

Let the Jewish people and the rabbinic authorities work together to create, ritualize, and promote a holiday based on America's Jews and all we have achieved over the centuries.

2015-08-28
]]>5 Inevitable High Holiday Moments in Your 20shttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27061&blogid=142
Growing up, the High Holidays were that time of year when our parents made us wear the fanciest dress or suit in our closet and sit through long services while sitting so far back in the room, you questioned if the rabbi was even on the bimah (stage). The trade-off was you got two nights of your parents’ or grandparents’ finest cuisine (assuming you survived your family meals).]]>Lindsey_22015-08-27T10:34:02ZAdam J. Miller

Growing up, the High Holidays were that time of year when our parents made us wear the fanciest dress or suit in our closet and sit through long services while sitting so far back in the room, you questioned if the rabbi was even on the
bimah
(stage). The trade-off was you got two nights of your parents' or grandparents' finest cuisine (assuming you survived your family meals).

In our 20s, nobody is forcing us to go to services anymore (guilting us, perhaps, but not forcing …) and sometimes even a family meal isn't nearby. Suddenly, we realize how much life has changed, which coupled with how introspective Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are, leads us to ask ourselves some questions.

In hopes of preparing you for the inevitable, here are five scenarios all too common for 20-somethings during the Days of Awe.

Wondering if you're a "Good Jew"

Despite the fact that being "good" or "bad" is not really a Jewish concept at all, this seems to be the time when everyone questions their spirituality. As a result, this moment creates one of three scenarios: 1) You make a promise to yourself that you know you aren't going to keep, but do it anyway because you feel like you should; 2) You embrace your "badness" by doing something that feels taboo (such as not fasting on Yom Kippur) and using the High Holidays as a time to rebel against your childhood or 3) Jewish guilt overtakes you and you decide to change things up. This could be anything from keeping kosher to participating in YLD's LEADS like your mom always bugs you about.

Having to explain the state of your life struggles

If the High Holidays mean being reunited with family, the joy you have from getting the best home-cooked meal you've had in months suddenly becomes a line of interrogation. Nobody ever explained that graduating college required hiring a PR agency to explain why you aren't in graduate school or why you're still single. When you try to defend yourself, your "Tinder culture" argument falls on deaf ears as every relative suddenly thinks they're Patti Stanger and wants to suggest "the perfect match" for you. Where's the swipe left button when you need it?

The unfortunate run-in

The person you thought you'd never see again when you graduated is literally the first person you see in shul. Either they are also visiting home or happened to move to Lakeview (because where else to 20-something singles go for the High Holidays when they're not at home?) and spot you before you can avoid them. Maybe this is a friend you had a falling out with over a decade ago, or maybe even an ex. Whatever happened, they're the last person you want to see and you have a lump in your throat. Suddenly, the focus you originally intended for prayer drifts toward this person. Perhaps this is what the Day of Judgment is really about?

The rabbi's sermon

The rabbi will almost certainly touch on at least one of the following subjects: 1) Why you should give more money to the shul; 2) An extremely controversial political opinion or 3) New beginnings/praying for mercy before our fate is sealed. If you find yourself listening to all three, then congratulations -- you hit the sermon jackpot. These are the most uncomfortable moments of the never-ending service. To top things off, the usual "two Jews, three opinions" stereotype suddenly becomes five opinions and the last 45 minutes you really didn't want to hear to begin with becomes the subject of a two-hour conversation at your dinner table.

Inexplicable excitement about the shofar

You know the shofar is coming. You've heard it every year during High Holiday services and yet, you still have the same reaction to the shofar service that you had when you were six. Perhaps it's the one point where you feel nostalgic about spending the high holidays with your family, or maybe you just like shofars. Even if you decided to rebel and sleep through most of services, you set your alarm just to hear the same blasts you hear every year. It's like the Jewish version of fireworks.

2015-08-27
]]>Living Jewishly Latelyhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27057&blogid=142
The last gasp of summer is upon us, so I’m making it my business to get outside and enjoy as many activities “al fresco” as I can before the blustery winter weather inevitably makes its sinister return (Sorry, not a winter fan).]]>Lindsey_22015-08-26T14:54:37ZAshley Kolpak

The last gasp of summer is upon us, so I'm making it my business to get outside and enjoy as many activities "al fresco" as I can before the blustery winter weather inevitably makes its sinister return (Sorry, not a winter fan).

In that vein, I went to a lovely outdoor gathering last week: JCC Chicago's Shabbat on the Lake. As I rounded the corner and walked along Lake Shore Drive toward Diversey Parkway, it dawned on me that it's been quite a long time since my last Shabbat celebration. I was a casual Hillel attendee in college, enjoyed some Shabbat festivities when I lived in France, but a gathering with approximately 500 Jews on a Friday night isn't anything I'd ever experienced. I felt a slight shiver of trepidation, but as I saw the event sprawling out of the welcoming crowd in a lush green park, I advanced with a spring in my step and geared myself up to shmooze.

The setting sun cast a lovely glow on the festivities. As I gathered my bearings and scoped out the scene, I noticed a drum circle to my left, a few discussion groups scattered about and some pre-Sabbath yoga to boot. I'd shown up after work -- a.k.a. blue jeans, semi-cute top, potentially disastrous hair -- while most people were dressed neatly in outdoor-ready synagogue attire.

Seeing circles of friends congregate around the park, I couldn't help but think this little gathering resembled a hive of bees. Productive, chattering, buzzing -- filling the area with warmth and activity. Fun fact: Dreaming about bees can symbolize a moment in your life when you're particularly social, when you are balancing a lot of interactions at once. Whether or not that's entirely accurate, it's hard to be sure. In any event, it's a fitting metaphor, don't you think? After prayers were said and dinner devoured, a quiet hum fell over the crowd, the evening easing into a state of blissful contentment.

What I love about going to events like this one is that you never know just whom you might run into. The friend who invited me is a sorority sister. As soon as I arrived, I was joined by my friend, her sister and a healthy smattering of fellow University of Illinois grads. We were quickly joined by her boyfriend, his friends from the local Hillel, Israelis visiting, working and enjoying Chicago, and so on. I spotted friends from college, random acquaintances from high school and I even bumped into a friend from my French conversation group.

It's gatherings like this that remind me: no matter how large a city can feel, a sense of belonging to a community can make the world seem small.

Another college chum is a recently ordained rabbi settling into her new post in Chicago. She put out a call for ideas on how to reach out to people our age, not quite just out of school, but who want to be engaged with Judaism in a way that is comfortable for them and suits their lifestyle. I'm excited to hear what my friends will have to say.

What suits me is taking a moment to engage in Judaism in a way that doesn't feel forced. Something that isn't necessarily focused on "meeting singles" (even though those events are pretty fun, too) is a breath of fresh air. As the High Holidays approach, it feels like a mighty fine time to delve into what it means to be a participant in the community for me, and how I'd like to get involved in the future.

2015-08-26
]]>My Tutors in Happinesshttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27045&blogid=142
Before I began a tutoring program in inner-city St. Louis, all I knew was that I would be teaching reading and writing skills to third through fifth grade students who were not reaching the state-required levels.]]>Lindsey_22015-08-24T15:04:47ZJessica Hochberg

Before I began a tutoring program in inner-city St. Louis, all I knew was that I would be teaching reading and writing skills to third through fifth grade students who were not reaching the state-required levels. Additionally, I was to serve as a mentor just by being someone who graduated high school and attended college -- many of the adults in these kids' lives did not.

Our task was to teach commitment, determination and responsibility. I knew trying to impart these values and skills would be a difficult but rewarding process. If I was lucky, I would help these kids stay the course in their education and hopefully their lives, but I never considered how much they might teach me in the process.

On my first day as a tutor, I walked down the fluorescent-lit hallways and into the cafeteria, which was filled with approximately 30 children, all African-American. The majority of the tutors were Caucasian.

There seemed to be an invisible barrier between the two groups because of our evident differences in age and background and our lack of knowledge -- maybe even ignorance -- about each other. I could feel each group clinging to what was familiar and being resistant to hear someone else's story. But I was determined to break down the wall between us and show my students that we do in fact share values and experiences that can allow us to develop a deep connection.

I sat down at a table with three 10-year-old girls. They looked at me with curiosity and confusion, as if they were seeing an alien.

"I'm Jessica," I said to their awed stares. After a minute, their silence broke. They asked me questions about my favorite music and color, and I was transported back to fourth grade. I loved answering every question, and we bonded over our mutual love of Taylor Swift and Beyoncé.

We immediately had a connection. My playfulness fed their curiosity, and we discovered many things in common. I could feel their preconceived notions of me disintegrating as we spoke, and I felt the same way. We were together to learn, and we had lots in common to connect us.

We worked together all school year. At one point in the curriculum, the students had to read a children's newspaper aloud and discuss the topics it presented. Then, the girls were supposed to write about one of the topics.

In the beginning, the girls were hesitant to write because they had a hard time spelling or thinking of what to write. For example, one of the topics was about "giving back." The girls had a hard time relating to it. I told them that it's possible to write about something even if it hasn't happened to you personally. I suggested they write as if they could assist anyone in whatever way possible. The girls thought about the question in this way instead, and wrote down beautiful tales of donating clothing and giving food to those in need.

Every time they had an obstacle in writing, I would try to frame the question in a relevant and interesting way. After a while, they started to do this practice themselves, and by the end of the year, they needed very little prompting before they began writing. They improved their critical thinking and motivation skills immensely over the months.

The girls also taught me lessons that I will carry with me for the rest of my life. I once asked them if they had been playing outside because it was sunny that day, and one girl told me that she couldn't because her neighborhood was too dangerous. Another girl told me that all of her cousins moved into her house, and it was fun to hang out with them, though I couldn't help but imagine how cramped and challenging it must've been. The girls would tell me these things without my asking, and they would tell these stories with a nonchalance and positive attitude that was admirable and extraordinary.

I was astounded by their stories and how they conquered every day as if it was the best day of their lives. They loved being together and with family, and they didn't need much more in order to be happy.

I hope that these girls never lose their ability to see the positivity in every situation, and I know that in my own life, I can definitely follow their example. They taught me to remember and heed all the blessings in my life, and try not to dwell on the more negative aspects. They were not bogged down by their reality, and they enjoyed all victories, small and large. And whether that was receiving a new "Frozen" pen or a new backpack, they were excited at everything, and were my tutors in happiness.

2015-08-24
]]>Lifestyle Changes that Lasthttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27041&blogid=142
Whenever my mom wants to diet, instead of using the “D” word, she professes that she’s making a lifestyle change. I like the way this woman thinks.]]>Lindsey_22015-08-21T15:41:20ZCarly Gerber

Whenever my mom wants to diet, instead of using the "D" word, she professes that she's making a lifestyle change. I like the way this woman thinks.

To me, a diet implies incorporating a new eating trend that swears you'll lose weight and look fab in your skinny jeans, bridesmaid dress, or crop top. However, once you've achieved your goal and ended that diet, you often gain the weight you've lost. On the other hand, a lifestyle change, to me, offers lasting physical and mental health.

There are many types of lifestyle changes. Maybe you want to get eight hours of sleep each night, workout five days a week, or eat more veggies. The difficulty of a lifestyle change, however, is sticking to it.

In my free time, I love reading books and articles on ways to better myself physically, mentally and spiritually. Below are a few tricks I've learned to help maintain a lifestyle change, so it just becomes a lifestyle:

Write It Down

A lifestyle change of mine has been to work out Monday through Friday. To best achieve my goal, I plan my workout schedule each Sunday. By planning it out, I know I have enough time in my schedule to hit the gym. Naturally, some weeks I make it to the gym when I plan to, while other weeks I sweat it out less frequently, however, ever since I started writing down in my schedule when I'm working out, I've been more likely to do those squats and arm curls.

Be Your Lifestyle Coach

One of my lifestyle goals is to get eight hours of sleep each night. If you're like me, you're busy, and it's hard to keep up with everything in our lives. So, if I'm at an event that goes past my bedtime, I'm learning to feel comfortable leaving before it's over so I can get some shuteye. Don't feel guilty doing things that are going to make you a happier and healthier person.

Don't Worry

We all have good days, bad days, good weeks, and bad weeks when it comes to implementing lifestyle changes. Don't beat yourself up about not sticking to your new lifestyle 100 percent of the time. Honestly, life would be boring if we followed every healthy habit. Find a balance with your new lifestyle change and your current lifestyle. A lifestyle change is supposed to empower you and not to deprive you.

It's important to always find ways to improve ourselves, so we can live more fulfilling lives. I hope my advice helps you stay on track.

2015-08-21
]]>Generation Wanderlusthttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27036&blogid=142
As I prepare to jet off for a week-long trip to South America, a trip I have been saving for and planning for years, I can’t help but wonder about the rise of Millennials making “hashtag wanderlust” not only a thing but a way of life.]]>Lindsey_22015-08-20T10:55:43ZGabi Bronstein

As I prepare to jet off for a week-long trip to South America, a trip I have been saving for and planning for years, I can't help but wonder about the rise of Millennials making "hashtag wanderlust" not only a thing but a way of life. Traveling is emphasized more than material goods, and spanning the globe is deemed far more important than holding down a 9-to-5 job. While this sounds all well and good (I mean who wouldn't want to take exotic elephant rides through Thai jungles), to me the entire concept feels a bit unrealistic.

Quotes pervade social media emphasizing traveling while you're young. Jobs and money are deemed secondary to the knowledge and memories you acquire while traveling. The "lose yourself to find yourself" in pretty much any country but America argument makes this phenomenon appealing and glamorous to an entire generation.

While it seems like everyone and their mother is taking hashtag wanderlust to heart by eating the local food in Asia and wearing the local garb in India, I can't help but wonder, how are people really doing this?

First there is the cash. Young 20-somethings who can afford to travel the world with no means of income and no job to return to can only mean that they are supported by others, are spending a lot of their savings or have won the lottery. Whatever the case, these people seem to be the exception among college grads as opposed to the rule.

Second there is the sheer reality of the thing. I recently read an article in Cosmo that chronicled the adventure of a young woman in her move to the Caribbean to scoop ice cream. She escaped from her well-paid albeit demanding corporate job in New York, completely changed her life and has apparently never been more satisfied. As inspirational as that is, I don't know too many New Yorkers who would be so casual about waking up to find poultry in their bathroom.

Although the article encourages taking risks, trying new things, and falling off the grid, it's a bit hypocritical -- it ran in a major fashion magazine! Still, I recognize this woman drastically changed her life, lives the way she wants to AND stands on her own two feet. For those who travel the world in this way, applause.

Packing your life up to move somewhere foreign and mysterious is no easy task, irrespective of how you achieve means to live. Not everyone can do that. But not everyone has the wanderlust gene either. Maybe that's okay too? What if it's okay to just try new things on the weekends? Or travel to another city to visit a friend? Shouldn't these less drastic things be encouraged and valued too? What ever happened to just treating yourself to a vacation?

My upcoming trip has been three years in the making with a group of friends who haven't been together in the same place since they took pictures together in their caps and gowns. Would I love to extend this trip, travel the world for a year and forget about my responsibilities? Of course! But for now I'll settle for doing that one week out of the year and to be honest, I don't think that's too shabby.

2015-08-20
]]>Tomatoes and Premature PSLhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27032&blogid=142
Can we talk about the recent announcement that the Pumpkin Spice Latte is coming soon? Like very soon -- Aug. 25 soon. How can this be happening to us, Chicago?]]>Lindsey_22015-08-19T15:52:15ZJeremy Owens

I am deeply in love with Starbucks. Every morning I stop by my local drive-through and pick up the largest coffee that the law will allow. I'm fairly certain that I wouldn't be able to function with out these daily trips. Frankly, I'm surprised I manage to find my local store in the morning, since I'm not being chauffeured by a grown-up and haven't had a drop of caffeine. I mean it. I've got it bad for the coffee mermaid -- she saves my life everyday!

Now that I've gotten that out of the way, can we talk about the recent announcement that the Pumpkin Spice Latte is coming soon? Like very soon -- Aug. 25 soon. How can this be happening to us, Chicago? I just felt the sun on my face for the first time two weeks ago and I had almost forgotten that winter was even a thing. I understand that we have to constantly move on to the next trend, but can it be summer for just a minute or two more? Please?

It's not that I hate the PSL. I actually like it a lot. I'd just prefer to focus on the foods and flavors of summer before having to wrap myself up in all of my clothes while returning to the cave to hibernate. If Starbucks really had our best interests at heart they'd be burying us in the flavors of summer.

Let's all think of summer foods for a moment. When I think of summer, all I can picture is tomatoes. Where are the tomatoes, Starbucks? This is tomato season after all, and nothing says summer like fresh tomatoes. I guess that's probably not the best flavor to combine with coffee, but I'd try it at least once. Maybe more if that's what I was handed at the drive through in the morning.

No! I'm not about to give you a recipe for tomato-flavored coffee -- that's the most disgusting thing I've ever heard! I would, however, like to share my new favorite summer recipe: Caprese salad. It's the easiest thing you'll make for dinner all summer, almost easier than picking up coffee at a Starbucks drive through.

Slice tomatoes into 1/3 inch-thick slices, if you're using the onion, slice it into very thin pieces and then also slice the mozzarella the same thickness at the tomato. Arrange the tomato slices on a plate and sprinkle each with a pinch of salt and fresh black pepper. Top each tomato slice with onion and dab a tablespoon (more if you like) of the pesto on the onion, then top with a slice of mozzarella and top with a basil leave and drizzle each with olive oil.

2015-08-19
]]>Cubs Ahead of Schedulehttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27018&blogid=142
The Chicago Cubs' nine-game win streak came to an end this weekend, after a dominant 15-strikeout performance by Chris Sale in a loss to the White Sox on Sunday at U.S Cellular Field.]]>Lindsey_22015-08-18T15:26:57ZEric Burgher

The Chicago Cubs' nine-game win streak came to an end this weekend, after a dominant 15-strikeout performance by Chris Sale in a loss to the White Sox on Sunday at U.S Cellular Field.

And this is no disrespect to the Cubs, but when I saw Sale vs. Haren, I knew the end of the road was near.

The loss ends an exciting run by this young Cubs team, which is performing well above expectations and ahead of schedule.

The last time the Cubs won nine games in a row was in May 2008. The fact that they are in playoff contention and winning in this fashion so late in the season is not only remarkable, but also completely unexpected. According to ESPN Stats & Info, this was their longest streak in August or later since they won 10 in a row in September 1953.

After being swept by the Phillies at the end of July, many analysts thought this would be the beginning of the downward spiral for this young Cubs team. They had kept themselves in contention for longer than anyone expected, but lack of experience was finally going to get the best of them as the games started to matter more and more.

The Cubs didn't see it that way.

They went on to win 16 of 19 after that series, including a 4-game sweep of the defending champion San Francisco Giants. During that stretch, Kris Bryant had a 12-game hit streak and Anthony Rizzo and Dexter Fowler both hit near .400, not to mention the hot run Kyle Schwarber has been on since his most recent call up. But it hasn't just been the bats. In his last 10 starts, Jake Arrieta is 7-1 with a 1.23 ERA, which is 3rd best since late June.The Cubs also have the best road record in baseball at 33-25.

This is not a fluke. The Cubs really are this good. They'll tell you themselves.

And it has been so much fun to watch, in part because you can tell it has been so much fun for them. This does not feel like a "curse-busting" team of strung-together players like we saw during the playoff runs in 2003 and 2007-08. This does not feel like a group carrying the baggage of 109 years of losing like those teams did. This is a whole new type of Cubs team, a complete re-build of not just a roster, but a way of baseball in Chicago.

The Cubs are somehow still "quietly" sitting with the fourth best record in baseball, in part because of the quality of their own division. Two of the three teams with better records than the Cubs also reside in the Central, the St. Louis Cardinals and the Pittsburgh Pirates. With the exception of the AL Central, the Cubs would be in first place in every other division in baseball. The fact that the hype machine has not completely overtaken Chicago yet is a factor I believe is helping the Cubs focus entirely on improving as a team and winning games.

As great as they are playing on the field, I would be remiss if I did not give credit to the work Manager Joe Maddon is doing. As exciting as the Maddon hiring was prior to the start of the season, expectations were still not through the roof. Baseball managers do not add more than 3-4 wins above replacement, especially on a team with their best days still expected to be ahead of them. As much as Maddon is known for his personality and antics, his biggest role so far in Chicago has been to keep them grounded -- focusing on fundamentals, not taking anything for granted and earning their way onto the field every day. So far there has been very little drama and they look like a team that belongs in the playoff race every time they come out onto the field.

Joe Maddon

But as I watch and as expectations continue to rise, I feel it is important to make a plea to Cubs fans not to forget to exercise patience in a sports world focused on results, viewing anything short of a title as a failed season.

As great as they have been, there is plenty of time to regress. We've seen them go through stretches where they struggle to score runs, and with a tough final seven weeks ahead of them that will see two series each against the Cardinals and Pirates, it is still possible that despite their record, the Cubs could still miss the playoffs -- be it by record or a loss in a play-in game.

It is important to remember, we were not supposed to be here yet this season. This is still a team with four rookies that are more or less everyday starters. We were not even supposed to see Schwarber or Addison Russell until next season. Let's not let our history of bitterness and cynicism spoil what this team has already done. I hope as much as anyone that this continues into the playoffs, but if it doesn't, this season was still a huge success.

The Cubs are finally moving in the right direction. It is not always going to be an exponential growth, there will be setbacks, but the fans on the north side need to appreciate that they have the privilege of watching the Cubs play in games that matter in August and September. Even if they lose those games, the fact that they are meaningful at all is something to be grateful for.

2015-08-18
]]>My Wedding Subconscioushttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27013&blogid=142
I’m realizing that there’s one aspect of wedding planning that I can’t control and it is driving me crazy. It’s my stupid subconscious.]]>Lindsey_22015-08-17T13:53:04ZLia Lehrer

For my upcoming October wedding, as a somewhat Type A bride, there's a lot I'm trying to control.

I don't think I've become Bridezilla, but I've spent 28 years daydreaming about this special day and I have a vision I'd like to achieve. I'm choosing specific flowers (I now know my new favorite flowers are dahlias and ranunculi!), I have songs I'd like the band to play (and not play), and I'm designing our invitations myself.

But I'm realizing that there's one aspect of wedding planning that I can't control and it is driving me crazy. It's my stupid subconscious.

I'm not one who usually remembers my dreams -- I rarely had those "oh-no-I-forgot-about-the-math-test-and-here-I-am-running-late-to-school-and-I'm-wearing-my-bathrobe-and-bunny slippers" nightmares, at least that I could remember. But leading up to our wedding, the nightmares have begun.

It's not monsters and zombies that scare me overnight. What frightens me awake are visions of the hair stylist not showing up, the bridesmaids forgetting what day it is, taking my dress out of the box to find it is salmon colored (yes, even in my dreams, I'm picturing colors by their Pantone names), the chuppah being an enclosed phonebooth-like box where no one could see us during the ceremony, and the photographer's pictures turning out horribly. And that was all one real, horrible midsummer night's dream!

The truth is -- I know the wedding is going to be great. It will be perfect because I'm marrying Adam, who is wonderful and loving and calm. It will be perfect because we will be surrounded by our friends and family who love us. And it will be perfect because at the end of the day, love is the winner. Things will go wrong, mishaps will happen, someone will forget to put out the place cards, but it will still be Our Wedding Day.

So why can't my dreams CALM DOWN?

Is there a way to send a message to my subconscious? "Hey, whoever's listening deep in there … these dreams have been getting a little crazy recently and are kind of stressing me out. Can we tone them down a bit?"

While I have spent a lot of time planning our wedding, the majority of it has been fun and even relaxing for me. I like meeting with florists and I enjoy trying on dresses. Even choosing linen colors is fun. But my nightmares are taking my fun and exciting reality and MAKING. ME. SCARED.

I'm sure this is normal, and I'd love to hear about other people's pre-wedding night terrors. Is there a trick to make them stop?

I guess I can't control everything. My brain is clearly bored while I'm sleeping (come on, brain, isn't there an episode of "Everybody Loves Raymond" that you can find in there? That show is always on somewhere) and so it wants to mess with me.

But what I can control is focusing on all of the love, all of the friendship, all of the family, and all of the many years of happiness in our future as husband and wife -- and, okay, maybe spending a few minutes every day daydreaming about my bouquet of dark red dahlias.

2015-08-17
]]>Out of the shadowshttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27009&blogid=142
I froze. There were words coming out of my mouth but I felt other-worldly – removed from my voice, my body.]]>Lindsey_22015-08-14T12:37:42ZAnnice Moses

I had much internal debate over writing this, but my decision was made by a sighting at my local Walgreens of a young girl donning an athletic jersey of a person currently under suspicion for less than gentlemanly behavior. It made me pause and it gave me courage. So here we go …

I froze. There were words coming out of my mouth but I felt other-worldly -- removed from my voice, my body.

He did it again. Suddenly, I felt myself resurfacing.

"Are you married? Do you have kids?" I demanded.

His voice changed from smug and cool to someone who had just gotten busted.

"Yes. I'm married with kids."

I looked him dead in the face, "If you were my husband and I saw what you just did to me, I would (insert unpublishable bad "-ing" word here) kick your ass!"

The truth was "handsy" was an understatement. Where and how he touched me, which I find too appalling to describe in writing, could not be filed away and dismissed as borderline inappropriate groping.

I found girlfriends. I told them what happened. We commiserated on his vileness and speculated what his problem was. We then universally agreed that we didn't give a shit.

For a little while I felt better. By the time I got home and climbed into bed next to my sleeping husband, I was drenched in a blanket of shame.

I've been me my whole life. I know that sounds like a ridiculous statement. But there's nothing like thinking you know yourself and then having that whole understanding crumble in an instant. That's exactly what happened to me that night. The stand-up-for-everything-sit-down-for-nothing, mouthy, in-your-face woman I know myself to be, had stood mute, mousy and wide eyed for many minutes. Where had I gone?

My mind went where I suspect many women go when they are violated in this way -- blank. I went blank. And when I returned to my senses, I still didn't act or behave as I would have expected until the following day.

I wrote an account of the injustice which I sent (albeit shakily) to the offender privately on Facebook. After two days of no response, I copied and pasted my words to his work email. Within 30 seconds of my hitting "send" it was returned to me as undeliverable. I felt bereft and enraged all at once. The justice I was seeking had to come from this man knowing what he had done was wrong. I had to wait for the man who with no thought at all had touched me -- twice -- in the middle of a party, to acknowledge his violation in order for me to feel better. This man, who only had more than cordial access to me because I had peripherally known him for years, needed to read my words so I could pass my shame and humiliation on to him and his conscience. It was sick and ironic. And I waited nonetheless.

While I waited for a reply, I ran through the scenario again and again. Each time I replayed the scene I would wonder, "What if...?"

Sometimes it was, "What if I had slapped him?" Sometimes it was, "What if I'd said something to a bouncer?" Sometimes it was, "What if I'd walked away the minute I'd gotten that bad vibe?"

I'm embarrassed by the answers that I would have given in that moment, but in the spirit of full disclosure and in an attempt to close the gap of loneliness and shame, I'm going to reveal them:

If I slapped him, I would have looked like a bitch; if I'd gotten him kicked out, his friends would be mad at me and I would have ruined the celebration; I didn't want to be rude and it could have been possible that my gut reaction was off.

I cannot express the embarrassment I have typing that. I have four kids whom I am entrusted to help navigate the world safely, empowering them with the confidence to stand up for injustices. And there I just stood, frozen, my mind full of reasons why I should talk myself down from advocating on my own behalf, for my own body.

He eventually responded. He apologized. And I was shocked that the justice I was seeking through his apology felt so hollow. It would never be squared because he was sorry, embarrassed or hung over. I had been violated and led to question and doubt myself. The two experiences would never meet in the middle.

I am now realizing something else; I haven't felt grounded up until this point -- up until just now -- as I type these last few sentences. The injustice beyond the actual offense was the silence and the shame of the secret. By sharing this publically, I no longer live in those shadows.

2015-08-14
]]>Treasuring the Momenthttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27006&blogid=142
If you thought “Cat’s in the Cradle” was a heart-wrenching song when you were single, try thinking about it when you’re a dad! We can all relate to that boy who missed out on those moments with his father, and the father (who we can also all relate to) missing out on those moments with his son.]]>Lindsey_22015-08-13T14:24:51ZJoshua Marder

If you thought "Cat's in the Cradle" was a heart-wrenching song when you were single, try thinking about it when you're a dad! We can all relate to that boy who missed out on those moments with his father, and the father (who we can also all relate to) missing out on those moments with his son. Life goes by so fast, and there's so much going on! We all have to fess up to the truth -- it's really hard to catch those special moments in life. Harry Chapin knew what he was talking about.

That poor father and son -- it's too late for them. But we won't let that happen, right?

In real life, there are real feelings, real relationships and real opportunities for deep satisfaction, pleasure and connections. But if we don't open up a space inside to hear and hold them, we lose them. We have to create space for the precious moments in our lives and relationships in order to treasure them. And that's what they are, treasure. But they're lost treasure if there's no space to store them.

This message was actually taught to us by the all-star greatest relationships rabbi of all time, Moses. When Moses was told to prepare two stone tablets for receiving the Torah, he was also told to prepare an ark to keep them in. Moses took those two instructions, but he swapped the order. He prepared the ark first, then the tablets.

Our sages tell us this was done purposefully. Moses felt it was important to have the ark built before preparing the tablets. What's the big deal? They're stone, can't they hold up for a few hours while he puts together the ark for them? His actions teach us that it actually is a big deal. Even if nothing would happen in the interim, the experience of having the tablets without a special space set aside for them would detract from their preciousness.

Symbolically, we learn a very special lesson. Without having a space for our "treasure" to be placed, it's not as treasured. Just like the kid in the song, Dad has to make some space for him. Otherwise, like in the lyric "you know we'll have a good time then …" the "then" comes and goes without ever having a good time.

This is applicable to anything we hold dear to us in life. We have to create a space for it to be a part of us and our lives. If we don't have a space within us to hold happiness, special moments, meaning and all the other wonderful experiences life can give us, we won't have anywhere to put them when they do arrive. We might even completely miss them.

We naturally assume that when good things happen to us we'll realize it, dive in and bask in the pleasures of the moment. But it's not true. We don't do it, and often it's because we haven't created a space for it. And then the experience is lost, as if it never happened. This goes for emotions, relationships and spiritual matters too. We need to create within ourselves space for feeling love, hearing the empathy of our loved ones, experiencing a spiritual existence and even for simply being happy in the moment. Otherwise, we could be missing out on all the abundant treasure around us.

2015-08-13
]]>The Voices in Our Headshttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=27002&blogid=142
There are many voices in my head. This is mostly because I consider myself somewhat of a voiceover enthusiast, but also because I like to talk to myself.]]>Lindsey_22015-08-12T16:11:33ZAdam Daniel Miller

There are many voices in my head. This is mostly because I consider myself somewhat of a voiceover enthusiast, but also because I like to talk to myself.

I do like all the stuff I like after all, so I can hold a great conversation with me. But outside of the cavalcade of voices in my head, there are two voices talking to my head (i.e. voices I hear) that have great importance in my daily life. I am, of course, talking about the ever-present voices of Carolyn Hopkins and Lee Crooks.

You never heard of them? That might be the case, but while you may have not heard of them, I can almost guarantee you have heard them. So journey with me.

Once we stop singing "Don't Stop Believing" together, let's journey in a different way to find out why these two people are such huge influences in my life, and possibly yours, without us ever even realizing it. If you haven't already Googled them, these two people are the voices of pretty much every transit announcement I've ever heard, ever. If you live in Chicago, it'll be the same for you as well.

Carolyn Hopkins is
the voice of hundreds of airports and subways. Not the restaurant, but the mode of public transit. Pretty much anytime you go to an airport and you hear a pre-recorded announcement over the PA system, that's her. When you're at the airport and you shouldn't park in the white zone, which is for loading and unloading of passengers only, that's her. And when you hear someone say, "What the hell are you doing in the bathroom day and night!? Why don't you get out of there and give someone else a chance!?"
you're probably watching Mel Brooks'
Young Frankenstein.

I travel for work on average every other week, so the voice of Carolyn Hopkins is one I've heard more often than I realize. The point is that my life is probably a little bit calmer and smoother for having Hopkins' voice guide me through my cross-country travels.

When I'm not on the road and in sweet home Chicago, that voice role is filled by the aforementioned
Lee Crooks, the voice of the CTA. For those of you not from Chicago, CTA stands for "Causing Total Anxiety" because of all the delays experienced in day-to-day transit. I'm just joking of course. CTA really stands for "Can't Time Accurately" because of all the delays experienced in day-to-day transit.

If you decide to ride the train or the buses in Chicago, you will hear Lee Crooks' voice, provided your headphones aren't on so loud that I can hear your music even though I am listening to my own music. So pretty much anytime you hear an announcement for a stop, that's him. Anytime you hear "we are waiting for signal clearance," that's him. And most famously, according to my own life, anytime you hear "doors closing," that's him. I often find myself repeating "doors closing" in the exact same manner as Crooks whenever I am on the 'L.' Or on the elevator in my apartment building. Or when I go to the bathroom and shut the door. Man, I close a lot of doors.

Within the past couple months, I was finally was able to put a face to these voices, which I found very cool. Most people don't realize the enormous amount of voiceover around them in their daily travels, and it's sometimes baffling to me to think of how many times I've heard these voices without taking the time to think about them. If I ever meet either of these people, I should thank them not only for making my commutes and travels subconsciously a little better, but also for giving me material for this Oy! post.

What's nifty is that
as of 2009, these voices actually cross roads in my life, or should I say tracks? Yes, yes I should. Because it happens around trains. See, while Crooks announces CTA stations and all things CTA when you are on the transit, when you are off the transit while on an 'L' platform, Hopkins is the one announcing things like an "inbound train will be arriving shortly." So in just a few moments, I could hear both these voices belting sweet nothings in my ear. It's almost like a marriage of the two.

It'd be amazing if these two voice actors were married in real life. The same way the voices of Minnie and Mickey Mouse were married in real life. You didn't know that? Oh,
it's true. Could life get any more adorable than that? Could it!? COULD IT!!??!!!

2015-08-12
]]>Wet Hot Jewish American Summer, Part 2http://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26998&blogid=142
The arrival of Netflix’s Wet Hot American Summer: First Day of Camp came with a feeling similar to that first day of overnight camp: who will your new friends be? What will your new memories look like? Will you find someone special? The possibilities seem limitless, and so was the case for David Wain’s return to the cult classic that launched his career and the careers of so many of today’s biggest stars.]]>Lindsey_22015-08-11T16:36:05ZIt's like the 'First Day of Camp'Steven Chaitman

The arrival of Netflix's Wet Hot American Summer: First Day of Camp came with a feeling similar to that first day of overnight camp: who will your new friends be? What will your new memories look like? Will you find someone special? The possibilities seem limitless, and so was the case for David Wain's return to the cult classic that launched his career and the careers of so many of today's biggest stars.

I already praised 2001's Wet Hot American Summer as
one of the best Jewish movies of all time, so needless to say, my excitement at seeing the entire cast (and then some) return for this prequel series was palpable, and my interest in what the Jewish components might be even more so. My expectations, on the other hand were tempered. Comedies of the cult variety are nearly impossible to replicate.

Fourteen years of reflection and insight definitely help First Day of Camp. Wain and co-writer Michael Showalter, who plays Coop, have a real sense of the spirit of their film and why it caught on as a cult classic, and they honor that without apology in this 8-episode series, which while not brilliant, has enough nostalgia and subtle laugh-out-loud moments to warrant the return trip to Camp Firewood.

The key is self-aware absurdity. Just the concept of making a series with all the same actors playing teenagers again (teenagers technically younger than they were in the movie, which took place on the last day of camp) is ridiculous enough.
First Day of Camp
makes jokes about it. Camper Abby Bernstein, for example, is played by a young girl in the first episode, but then gets her period, and from then on is played by Marisa Ryan, reprising her film role.

The Jewish humor of the series is more overt than it was in the 2001 film, and you can tell its personal for Wain; he plays a new character, Yaron, a counselor from Israel.

Yaron is the free-spirited, sexually liberated Israeli who is friendly and sweet with everyone yet intimidates and angers his fellow American male counselors, namely Coop, simply by default, i.e. he steals away their women with his Israeli swagger. In particular, Yaron captivates Coop's girlfriend Donna (Lake Bell), also a new character, a Jewish hippie type with a Star of David necklace who gifts everyone in camp a shofar from "Yerushalayim."

Israeli shlichim, the Israelis who come to American each summer to work at camps, are an integral part of the American Jewish camping experience, and so Yaron feels like the piece of the original movie that was missing. His subplot with Donna and Coop enhances the Jewish tone of the new series, suggesting Wain felt a certain pride over his movie's Jewish roots and popularity among Jews, and wanted to fly the flag a little higher this time around.

The entire First Day of Camp series is totally outrageous, sometimes to the point of tedium, but it's all in homage to the movie. The stories for each character line up with the original and sometimes in ways that put a twist on what we thought we knew about those characters -- for better or for worse. It's a total reunion-type series, much like Netflix's foray with
Arrested Development, and it works as just that. A
Wet Hot "virgin" would have a much lower chance of appreciating the series and wouldn't get many of its subtle references to the movie.

True to form, the only time the series is sincere is in the notion of camp friendships and romance, specifically the subplot involving nerdy camper Kevin (David Bloom), who gets bullied and has a crush on a girl. That's the truth of both the film and the series -- camp is a magical yet unforgiving place where a lot of growth happens in a short time.

So in a very roundabout way,
First Day of Camp
further reinforces why Jewish kids need to go to Jewish summer camp -- just don't show it to them until they're older.

2015-08-11
]]>Advice to my 13-year-old selfhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26993&blogid=142
One of the best things about getting older is growing more confident in who we are and more comfortable in our own skin.]]>Lindsey_22015-08-07T11:55:22ZCindy Sher

One of the best things about getting older is growing more confident in who we are and more comfortable in our own skin.

I remember back to my own bat mitzvah and how much more timid I felt back then, in daily life, and certainly standing up in front of all those people on my big day. I wish I could whisper in that 13-year-old girl's ear, up there on that
bimah (pulpit), and reassure her. But growing up is also about learning lessons for yourself. If we could, though, wouldn't it be nice to tell our younger selves a few pieces of wisdom?

Here are 13 things I would tell the younger me:

1. Don't worry so much about what other people think. Now I know that's way easier said than done, but teens and -- who am I kidding? -- adults too, spend a lot of time concerned about how they come off to other people. We obsess that others are judging everything we do. But I've got news for you: Everyone else is way too concerned about what they're doing so how could they be paying attention to your every move?

2. Go to Israel. Take advantage of the incredible opportunities in the Jewish community that will get you to our Jewish homeland. It will change you forever.

3. Listen to the stories your grandparents and parents tell you about your family tree. They're your roots and learning where you came from reflects on who you are and has a lot to do with who you will become.

4. Appreciate summer break. You're not always going to have the luxury to take three months off from the rest of the year to do something totally different.

5. Be kind to people -- and treat them just like you'd want them to treat you.

6. Eat dinner with your family whenever you can -- especially on Shabbat. The life and schedule of a teenager is kray-zee, but share a meal at the end of the day and week as much as you can to ground you from the chaos of our daily routines.

7. Be you. Don't just go with the crowd, wear stripes and polka dots together if you want to, and stand up for what you believe in -- even if it's not the popular thing to do.

8. Tell the people you love that you love them.

9. Be nice to your sister or brother. If they're anything like the little sister I was (and still am), they look up to you and want to be like you.

10. Pick classes and activities you actually want to take in high school and college, as opposed to what's going to look good on your applications and resume. You've got the whole rest of your life to worry about your job. Taking courses you're interested in will make you a more well-rounded person-and more fun to talk to at cocktail parties.

11. Mail a letter. My 13-year-old self didn't know from texting, Tweeting, and Snap Chat, but if she did, I'd still tell her to occasionally write a letter to someone on good old-fashioned paper. I know you'll probably have to find where your family keeps the stamps because it's rare to use them these days, but think of how fun it is to receive a letter in the mail every once in a while.

12. When you learn to drive in a couple years, try not to drive up onto your neighbor's lawn, which I admit I did, almost giving my driving coach/dad a heart attack. And never EVER drink and drive, or text and drive!

13. Remember that this too shall pass! You won't always go to school with that mean bully who probably has pretty low self-esteem, you will one day pass geometry (and perhaps never use your geometry knowledge again), and you're not always going to be in love with that one guy from U.S. History class. I promise you, next semester, you'll have a crush on that other guy from U.S. History class.

2015-08-07
]]>Interview with Jewish baseball legend Shawn Greenhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26989&blogid=142
After Sandy Koufax and Hank Greenberg, the debate over the third greatest Jewish baseball player begins, and that conversation often starts with Shawn Green. For a stretch, Green showed elite power, which led him to all-star status, but his story is far deeper than his home runs.]]>Lindsey_22015-08-06T13:44:31ZJeremy Fine

After Sandy Koufax and Hank Greenberg, the debate over the third greatest Jewish baseball player begins, and that conversation often starts with Shawn Green. For a stretch, Green showed elite power, which led him to all-star status, but his story is far deeper than his home runs.

1. What have you been up to since you retired?

I retired to spend more time with my wife and two daughters. I wrote a book that came out about five years ago called The Way of Baseball: Finding Stillness at 95 mph. I was doing a lot of speaking with the book. I have been involved in a few businesses, mainly tech startups. Currently, I work for a company called Green Fly, which mainly handles media apps.

2. Do you think the National League should adapt the DH? Would you have played longer?

I like old school baseball. I am not a big fan of interleague play. I believe the game should be innovative but there is something about old school baseball that I love. I liked when it was a true World Series and the leagues had advantages and disadvantages. It threw a wrench in the mix. It was like two very different games going on which was exciting. I do not think a DH in the National League would have kept me in the game any longer. It is more for infielders rather than outfielders. Leaving the game had less to do with not being able to play anymore and had more to do with not wanting to play anymore.

3. What was it like playing for Israel in the World Baseball Classic? How good was Joc Pederson?

Playing for Israel in the WBC was a lot of fun. It was great to put on an Israeli uniform. There were a bunch of young Jewish players and it was definitely the smartest team I have ever been a part of. While playing I got to know Joc. Joc was coming out of A-ball. We all knew he would be special because he has a beautiful swing. He reminds me a lot of Lance Berkman because of the way he swings and the backspin he hits the ball with. He is young and getting better. Right now he hits lots of home runs and his strikeouts will reduce because of his natural swing.

4. What is the hardest part of being away from the game?

I was burnt out when I retired. I do miss the camaraderie. And I miss the flights but not the travel. There is also something about the physicality of a sport, like taking batting practice and honing a craft. I do not miss the stress of competition, but I do miss the success of accomplishing physical goals; it is a lot of fun to hit a home run.

5. What was your greatest professional accomplishment?

I am proud of a lot of things. My first few years were a big challenge mainly because I was platooning. Getting over that hump and becoming an everyday starter and all-star was gratifying. Also the Golden Glove and 35 stolen bases were major accomplishments. My critics believed I couldn't do either. These things stretched me and got me outside my box.

6. Who was the best pitcher you ever faced and the best player you played with?

No question Mariano Rivera was the best pitcher I ever faced. He basically had one pitch and I could never hit it. Best player I ever played with was Adrian Beltre. He was super talented and truly an incredible ball player. All four years we played together he showed signs of being MVP, but what separates him from everyone else is the way he plays defense. He also could have 3,000 hits and 500 home runs by the end of his career. He should be in the Hall of Fame.

7. Like Sandy Koufax you sat out on Yom Kippur. Is that decision still meaningful in your life?

I actually sat out three times. I sat out in 2001 after 9/11, but that did not get much attention because we were a few games behind the Giants. In 2004 we were a few games ahead and had two games that landed on Yom Kippur. I played in one game and sat out the other. When I was younger we acknowledged the holiday but we were not super religious growing up. In 2007, I again sat one game and played the other. 2004 became a big story juggling a religious decision in the modern workplace. It was the right decision for my family and looking back I am happy I made the decisions I did.

2015-08-06
]]>Kettlebells Rockhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26984&blogid=142
The first time I saw a trainer using a kettlebell, I judged him. With his thick Russian accent he would yell at his clients, “Pop your hips. Use your legs.” I cringed as another trainer tossed a 30-pound kettlebell in the air and caught it with the other hand. Part of me thought, that can’t be good for your joints.]]>Lindsey_22015-08-05T14:16:49ZRon Krit

The first time I saw a trainer using a kettlebell, I judged him. With his thick Russian accent he would yell at his clients, "Pop your hips. Use your legs." I cringed as another trainer tossed a 30-pound kettlebell in the air and caught it with the other hand. Part of me thought,
that can't be good for your joints.

Yet I was also intrigued. Fast forward a few years, and this weighted ball with a handle went from an Eastern European fad, to an American gym staple.

The most cost-effective bell is made from cast iron; they last forever and are not expensive. They also make vinyl versions (which don't wear well) and steel (more expensive). The benefit of a kettlebell over a dumbbell is the way the kettlebell can be held, swung, and racked next to your body. These heavy objects are not for everyone, but they are great for improving endurance, burning calories, and becoming more athletic. I own several and use them with most of my clients. When I'm short on time, I'll crank out a quick workout of squats, rows, deadlifts, and presses with limited breaks.

If you are already weight-training, ask a trainer at your gym for some guidance. If you are new to weight training, schedule a session with a trainer to learn the basics. I would look for a trainer that completed a certification or class on using kettlebells.

If you don't work out at a gym with kettlebells or trainers, there are a million videos online that can help. Obliviously, be cautious; whipping a heavy object around can lead to injury. I start my clients off with a few basic movements and light weight, and once the movement is down we can add more weight, speed up the movement or make other tweaks.

2015-08-05
]]>Millennials and Minimalismhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26977&blogid=142
I am a Millennial and I am fascinated with the idea of minimalism. And no I'm not talking about the art form or furniture style -- I'm talking about a lifestyle.]]>Lindsey_22015-08-04T15:51:10ZLiz Kaydanovsky

I am a Millennial and I am fascinated with the idea of minimalism. And no I'm not talking about the art form or furniture style -- I'm talking about a lifestyle.

Through literature and real-life examples, I actively expose myself to minimalist ideas/principles for a few reasons. Besides it being a freeing experience both physically and mentally, practicing minimalism is a catalyst for growth. It's a journey to discovering a hidden treasure. But this journey is not long and arduous -- it gets easier along the way; instead of gems, this treasure contains the most powerful gem of all: a freeing state of mind.

When I think about minimalism, I think about living life in its purest form. To think that the key is as simple as simplifying life is a refreshing revelation, to say the least.

Sometimes it's just throwing stuff away, donating or not buying that hot new item, but the more I discover, the more I realize that minimalism is all-encompassing -- it's so much more powerful when applied to all facets of life. The moment I apply it to decisions about my relationships, work, passions and future; almost immediately, I get mental clarity.

What did my math teacher always say when I stared blankly at a scary, complex math equation? "Break it down." When I looked at the problem as a whole, it was intimidating, paralyzing even. But as I broke apart the pieces of this long, scary-looking equation, I realized it's just made up of many very basic mathematical rules.

And it's like that with everything. If you want to understand your finances, break down your expenses. If you want to be healthier, evaluate your diet.

When in doubt, simplify, simplify, simplify. You'll discover so much in the process.

"Simple is always better." This statement resonates with me, and I do my best to
actively practice it. I seek simple. I say seek because we live in a complex world. And so, to experience simple, I clear and create space for it.

There's nothing like walking home instead of taking the bus on a sunny day. The city is breathtaking, the people are free energy, and Vitamin D is fuel for the body and soul.

A perfect Friday involves talking, thinking, asking and listening to close friends. A perfect Saturday morning is waking up to natural sunlight and enjoying every sip of my green tea while writing till my thoughts run dry.

These are simple, effective and most importantly, mine; my pure moments of happiness and clarity.

Contrary to popular belief, basic is not boring. Basic is fruitful. Less is more.

For many established individuals, those that garnered immeasurable "success," minimalism is a Zen destination, a realization later in life and sometimes too little too late.

For them, monetary success, and all its stickiness, precedes this realization that money, power, fame, and even respect are not everything. Minimalism embodies this very idea.

And Millennials get it.

You know, we get a bad rap sometimes; we're often called lazy, entitled or cocky. But this generation is redefining success. We're not easy. You can't buy us with money and fancy titles. We're just not that impressed.

We want depth. We want meaning. I am proud to be a part of a generation that is enamored with culture, consumed by curiosity, and hungry for change.

And change requires evaluation. Evaluation requires what? You got it. You need to break it down before you can build it back up, and in this process, you may discover that some things,
many things, can remain broken down. Not everything has to be complex to be cool or right.

It's the little things that matter. And it's the little things you'll remember. Minimalism is a way of life -- a life of meaning, a life of purpose.

2015-08-04
]]>Dear Netflixhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26964&blogid=142
Netflix, I see you have branched out from live-action into animation with, ahem, BoJack Horseman. But you also might want to develop an animated series targeted at adults that does not have an alcoholic anthropomorphic horse as the main character, whose best friend is a humanoid dog named Mr. Peanutbutter.]]>Lindsey_22015-08-03T14:41:38ZA pitch for a Maus seriesPaul Wieder

Netflix, I see you have branched out from live-action into animation with, ahem,
BoJack Horseman. But you also might want to develop an animated series targeted at adults that does not have an alcoholic
anthropomorphic horse
as the main character, whose best friend is a humanoid dog named
Mr. Peanutbutter.

You know, something with a touch more … class.

You will run into a problem. Most works that could be animated -- comic books and graphic novels -- would probably end up being for children, like your
many other animated series.

The subject is certainly weighty enough to stand alongside
House of Cards
and
Marco Polo. It would automatically have the gravitas to win back the critics turned off by
BoJack. And it would attract major voice-over talent.

Maus
is a finite series, true, but there is enough material in the two novels to stretch to four seasons. And author
Art Spiegelman
is still alive, so you could bring him on as a writer and consultant -- even director or producer -- so fans would know the work is being given its propers.

Turns out, I'm
not the only one
clamoring for a
Maus
series, so the audience is already there.

Spiegelman has been approached about this before, and gone on record saying "no" to an adaptation, as that other article notes.

But Netflix, he's never been approached by
you
before. As a streaming service, you present the unique opportunity for his creative control. As an adapter and savior of other series, you have shown the sensitivity and respect for an artist's vision that few, if any, other studios have. Spiegelman may listen to you when he has rebuffed others.

Besides, he's in his late 60s now and may realize that he'd rather be around for the adaptation than leave it to others once he's gone. Because it's
going
to happen. As I noted, it's one of the few major unproduced properties of its type, and people have been begging to see it made for decades.

Think of an animation with the profundity of a
Shindler's List
on your cue. Think of being hailed as the network that dared put a show about the Holocaust on. Think of the acclaim you'd get from being the ones who taught several new generations about the Holocaust -- and at a time when anti-Semitism is on the rise, globally.

Netflix, give Spiegelman a call. As our people say, it couldn't hurt.

2015-08-03
]]>Punk Gratitudehttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26960&blogid=142
A new commercial for Choice Hotels sort of caught me off guard. The
background music is The Clash's "Should I Stay or Should I Go." It was a
little freaky to hear the song being used for a commercial. Maybe punk
is coming back? If so then I'd like to share two stories.]]>Lindsey_22015-07-30T14:58:21ZNeil Harris

A new commercial for Choice Hotels sort of caught me off guard. The background music is The Clash's "Should I Stay or Should I Go." It was a little freaky to hear the song being used for a commercial. Maybe punk is coming back? If so then I'd like to share two stories.

The first I overheard at a high school party back in 1988:

A preppy teenager walks up to a punk rock teenager with a Mohawk and asks him "What's Punk?"So the hardcore punk teen kicks over a garbage can and say '"That's punk!" The preppy teen proceeds to kick over another garbage can and says "That's Punk?" The punk kid looks at him, smiles, and says, "No that's trendy!"

I love this story because it shows that it's not only our actions that define us, but our attitude when we perform those actions.

We can give meaning and emotion to what we do. Acts of kindness, good deeds or performing a mitzvah have an effect. To follow the crowd without thinking about
what or why
you're doing something isn't always the best plan. Plenty of people, myself included, fall into the trap of doing things by rote, even when it comes to mitzvot. Raising money for a cause, volunteering for a JUF project, making a blessing over food, hugging our children or a loved one -- these can become empty actions. They can also be really meaningful experiences. It's all about what you do and how you do it.

I'm guilty of not putting thought into my actions, but I'm not alone. These days I find more and more people are on autopilot, and that's not punk.

Here's a second story, paraphrased from the Artscroll biography of Rav Dessler, by Yonoson Rosenbloom:

When Rabbi Eliyahu Eliezer Dessler came to America in 1948, he met up with his son, Nachum Velvel, in New York. Rabbi Dessler asked his son who had helped him during his years alone in America. His son mentioned several people in New York along with Rabbi Eliezer Silver, the head of Agudah Israel (a national organization that services Jews) and the rabbi of Cincinnati. Rabbi Dessler said, "We must thank him."

His son offered to place a telephone call to Rabbi Silver, but Rabbi Dessler wanted to show personal "hakarot hatov," gratitude and thankfulness, to Rabbi Silver. Nachum Velvel and his father then took a nine-hour train ride to Ohio, arriving at 5:00 a.m. in Cincinnati. They went to Rabbi Silver's home and waited on the porch to meet him as he left his house for morning prayers. Rabbi Silver met his two guests when he woke up and they all went to shul and then back to the Silver's for breakfast. After a bite to eat, Rabbi Silver said, "So, Rabbv Dessler, what brings you to Cincinnati?" Rabbi Dessler said that he had only come to show appreciation to Rabbi Silver for all he had done for his son.

Rabbi Silver thought about this and again asked, "So, Rabbi Dessler, what really brings you to Cincinnati?"

Rabbi Dessler said that he had no other purpose that to show "hakarot hatov." Rabbi Silver said, "Rabbi Dessler, what can I really do for you?"

Rabbi Dessler, for a third time, repeated that he only wished to show gratitude to Rabbi Silver in person.

Rabbi Silver finally gave up and muttered, "This must be the greatness of Mussar (a movement within Judaism that focuses on ethics and growth)."

This is one of my favorite Rabbi Dessler stories. It embodies what I think is the best of the Mussar movement. You can't preach ethics and not be ethical. For me, this means actions need to be in sync with how I live my life. When I am mindful of this, I'm the nicest guy; when I go on autopilot, I can be the exact opposite.

This is what Rabbi Dessler was about. A simple "thank you" isn't enough sometimes. We need to go out of our way. To show gratitude or do a kind act for a spouse, parent, teacher, or even a child who needs to be acknowledged is the right thing. For Rabbi Dessler, he felt he had no choice but to travel to Cincinnati. For me, walking across the street or just to the living room can make a big difference to someone. We have no idea what effect our actions can have on others.

Being punk means that you don't follow the mainstream sometimes, and focus on an extreme. If your extreme is something that helps others, you're real punk.

2015-07-30
]]>What the Beep?http://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26956&blogid=142
There's something new I'm sensing about my neighborhood that's making me uneasy -- something I'd never noticed in all my life living here, but made me cringe, like a Q-tip hitting the brain. I'll share with you an incident that occurred less than 24 hours of being home from school.]]>Lindsey_22015-07-29T16:40:26ZThe Eyes of the Trucker Go Up and DownEliana Block

There's something new I'm sensing about my neighborhood that's making me uneasy -- something I'd never noticed in all my life living here, but made me cringe, like a Q-tip hitting the brain. I'll share with you an incident that occurred less than 24 hours of being home from school.

The way my heart raced, you'd think it had been years not weeks since the last time I'd seen my sister. I was too exhausted to drive, let alone walk, to visit her, my decade-divided twin, so I collapsed on my bed instead and hoped she'd understand. With the summertime luxury of sleeping-in, I woke up after 10 a.m., brushed my teeth and threw on something to wear. I rushed out the door, calling behind me that I didn't know when I'd be back and began the precisely 4.45-minute walk to my sister's townhouse.

Strolling down my street, taking in the familiar birds and 50-degree "summer" heat of Chicago, I noticed out of the corner of my eye a red pick-up truck parked along the curb. Lawnmowers and hand-held weed-whackers filled the trunk and a middle-aged man sat in front looking bored. There wasn't much to take in and I found the squirrels wrestling in front of my feet much more entertaining. I trailed their squirrelly game to the end of the block, and it wasn't until they jumped into the bushes that I noticed the truck cruising alongside me, matching my walking pace.

I figured it was only a coincidence. He must be headed somewhere in the same direction -- maybe he was running low on gas -- who knows? But as I turned the corner and walked the width of two more blocks it slowly dawned on me that the "this isn't happening" situation, was happening to me.

He drove a bit further and parked on my side of the street. With 1,001 red flags raised, along with every hair on my arm, I decided to cross to the other side, putting distance between me and the vehicle. Crossing to the other side helped my nerves as did being a few steps shy of a major intersection, but just as I thought it was over, a heckle hit me hard.

"Shake that ass baby! Shake that ass!"

Over my right shoulder I threw a hard look of shock and confusion, and in a beat, the truck u-turned, fleeing like a torero in a bullfight. The match was done. The red truck drove away and I became the trophy animal -- enraged then gouged in the belly by his words.

As an eating disorder survivor, the metamorphoses of my body from frail-lanky boy, to strong and curvy, isn't just physical, but psychological. Since my ED I've gained over 20 NECESSARY pounds, and it's those pounds that let me get back to the things I love. Whether it's losing the time while roller-blading, counting my chin-ups between breaths or striking my personal trainer with an uppercut during a boxing lesson, its moments like these when I almost forget the girl whose undernourished body physically couldn't get up from bed one morning. It's moments like these when my body and I are finally on the same page.

So obviously I was stunned, to say the least, after this episode. Should I run, cover up, be embarrassed of the body I was so proud of? Would I stand there and let others ridicule my self-worth because I'm a woman? No, because I've spent too long reducing my own body to let others do it for me.

The tally stands at seven now -- seven "nice asses," whistles and honks in the two weeks since I've been home. Don't think I'm strutting around in thigh-high boots and patent leather minis: I literally got honked twice on my way home today wearing a sweaty XL gray t-shirt with and capris from 8th grade.

What's going on?

I believe that women and girls have the right to walk down the street without being made self-conscious, just as men and boys have a right to express their favor. Women do love compliments, but next time, tell your mom/sister/grandma/girlfriend/wife/best friend she looks beautiful today. Tell her how strong and confident she looks. Save the antiquated "a-woogas" and whistles for some cartoon network show or 1920s black-and-white clip. Let's change the way we give compliments.

Yes, there's something new I'm sensing about my neighborhood that's making me uneasy, but it's not about the way I look -- it's the way some are so blind.

Sincerely,
What the Beep?

Eliana Block is an Orthodox Jewish blogger, freelance journalist and creative writer studying at the University of Maryland. Read more of her posts at www.collegadoxparadox.blogspot.com

2015-07-29
]]>Grilled and Marinated Flank Steakhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26952&blogid=142
Summer is here, despite the insanely cool weather we saw in Chi-town the first month of the season, so it’s time to get the grills going! And there is no better way to break in the grill then with this scrumptious flank steak.]]>Lindsey_22015-07-28T14:18:41ZMila Furman

This is the munchkin, a.k.a. Charlie, back about 18 months ago when I first created this recipe. She snuck over and grabbed the over-sized fork just as I was about to snap the perfect shot.

Summer is here, despite the insanely cool weather we saw in Chi-town the first month of the season, so it's time to get the grills going! And there is no better way to break in the grill then with this scrumptious flank steak.

I first discovered this flavor at a cocktail party back when I worked in the city in my glorious early '20s. They had a carving station and were slicing this tender steak oh so very thin and its juices were flowing out with every motion of the knife.

When I placed a slice on my tongue, I noticed tangy, salty, sweet and savory all at the same time. It made my mouth water even as I was eating it -- and it caused me to "mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm" out loud in front of some slightly uptight folk. They looked at me funny, raising their eyebrows and pursing their mouths … until they tasted the steak for themselves and let out the same sigh and loud "mmmmmm" I did. Conversation ensued.

That night I stopped by at the grocery store and bought the necessary ingredients for my version of the steak. They used flank steak, a difficult meat to deal with unless it is cooked and sliced properly. This meat, like many other cuts such as skirt steak and brisket, should be sliced AGAINST the grain.

Look at the pic below. The direction of the arrow is AGAINST the grain. And that is the direction that you will slice it after it is cooked. Make sure you have a nice, sharp knife!

I also like to marinade these slightly fibrous cuts of meat. In my experience, it helps make them juicier and more succulent. Plus, with a soy sauce marinade (such as this one), you are creating almost a brine-like environment where the wonderful saltiness of the soy sauce permeates each muscle fiber leaving the flesh moist and flavorful. It's science really: a brine allows for osmosis to occur. All you need to know, however, is that your meat tastes awesome if it's brined. And that is precisely why when I make
my roast turkey I brine it.

But back to the steak. It only takes a few ingredients that you probably already have in your pantry to make this steak go from ordinary to KA-POW!

1. Combine soy sauce, balsamic vinegar (this is what gives that tangy, savory flavor) honey, teriyaki sauce, ginger, lime, garlic, a few squirts of sriracha, vegetable oil and scallions into a bowl and mix to combine all the flavors.

2. Then throw all the ingredients in a zip-lock bag along with the steak. Shake, shake, shake. Make sure it's all covered.

3. Place in the fridge for at least an hour and up to 24 hours.

4. If you live in the not so warm parts...like me... you can cheat a bit. Take a large oven proof frying pan and place it into a 500-degree oven for about 10 minutes. Or you can place it in there as the oven preheats.

5. Remove your steak out of the bag and place it on a paper towel, dabbing the moisture off of the steak.

6. Once the pan is heated, place the steak directly onto the pan. You will see it shrink up immediately from the high heat. Close the oven and allow to cook for 5 minutes then flip it and cook it for 2 minutes.

7. For me, this is the ultimate way to sear a steak nicely without clouding my house up with smoke.

8. Place the steak on a sheet pan and cover with foil. Let the meat rest for 10 minutes.

9. Slice into it on a bias, against the grain, as we previously discussed.

10. Sprinkle with scallions and grab some chop sticks! Dinner is served.

2015-07-28
]]>Bring Change to the Diaper Changer!http://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26940&blogid=142
We were just wrapping up dinner at a new restaurant enjoying a lovely family evening together. My 1-year-old son, John, had eaten well and managed to get most of the food we offered into his mouth, avoiding the floor. My wife and I managed to complete at least half of a decent conversation. Nobody was screaming yet.]]>Lindsey_22015-07-27T15:22:33ZAndy Kirschner

We were just wrapping up dinner at a new restaurant enjoying a lovely family evening together. My 1-year-old son, John, had eaten well and managed to get most of the food we offered into his mouth, avoiding the floor. My wife and I managed to complete at least half of a decent conversation. Nobody was screaming yet.

As I was signing for the bill, she was wiping a tiny pair of hands and some chubby cherubic cheeks. She sniffed the air twice and then lifted John out of the seat and went in for closer inspection. Scrunching her nose, she looked at me and said,

"He needs a change."

We paused and looked at each other with the same concerned expression on our faces.

"Is there a changing table in the restroom?"

We tend to focus our lives on the things that matter most; when it comes to the day-to-day kind of stuff, we don't often pay attention to the things not relevant to our immediate needs. Before we had a child, I wouldn't have thought twice about the layout and accessories inside a public restroom. Now, I keep a mental list of which locales provide the best and worst options for taking care of some often dirty but very necessary business.

Rather than list the best accommodators and worst offenders when it comes to family-friendly bathrooms, I thought it would be more productive to list some basic requests to bring all restrooms that serve families up to a certain level of comfort.

Parents' Bill of Rights for Diaper-Changing Stations

1. Have one

Without a place to change a diaper, my three options are change the baby on the dirty, diseased bathroom floor; try to get him to hold very still while I balance him on the edge of the sink; or change him out in the restaurant where his bright baby bum is on display for everyone to see.

2. Have one in the men's room too!

This is 2015 -- men change diapers too. Some guys go out in public with small children and don't bring a woman along. Having the women's restroom as a default location for a changer is not okay.

3. Put it in a reasonable location

Don't put the changer in the doorway so everyone has to uncomfortably squeeze by me to enter or exit the bathroom. Don't put it in a bathroom stall. This is all too common and makes no sense. Having it within arm's reach of a sink and a trashcan is really the most practical.

4. Provide a trashcan nearby

My free-throw percentage is awful. Challenging me to toss a stinky diaper across a crowded bathroom with one hand on my child, keeping him from rolling off the table, is a sure way for all of us to lose badly.

5. Check it every once in a while.

Make wiping it down a part of the regular bathroom cleaning routine. If that strap is broken, consider fixing it because a broken strap just becomes something new and disgusting for my child to put in his mouth. Consider fixing that broken hinge, so I don't have to balance on one foot to hold up half the table with my knee.

Trust me, any parent can tell you that these are really just the bare-minimum requests to ensure a safe, clean and comfortable diaper change for baby and us. It's not much to ask, is it?

Even if you are not a parent, you probably know someone who is! Please comment and share this post with others, so we can get some traction around this!

2015-07-27
]]>A Blogger’s Paradisehttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26930&blogid=142
It all began on a little island called Maui. While soaking in the Hawaiian sun on a family vacation, I was schmoozing with one of the other hotel guests, a mother of three who was telling me about her children.]]>Lindsey_22015-07-24T11:26:44ZCarly Gerber

Photo credit: Alexanna Cox

It all began on a little island called Maui.

While soaking in the Hawaiian sun on a family vacation, I was schmoozing with one of the other hotel guests, a mother of three who was telling me about her children. As she was explaining her daughter's hopes of attending New York University, she also mentioned that her daughter began a fashion blog.

I didn't think much of the conversation for a few days. But, then, it hit me -- I could start my own fashion blog! I've always loved fashion and was going to study it in college. Creating a place where I could document my favorite fashion trends seemed like a wonderful idea.

The direction and content of my blog has changed through time. After blogging for about two years, I've learned a lot along the way. I've rounded up what I believe to be the three most important elements to becoming a happy blogger. I hope my advice will help you if you're interested in starting a blog dedicated to whatever interests you.

Find your niche

Do you love dressing your dog in fun outfits? Maybe you should start a blog about canine fashion. Do you love fixing cars? Maybe start a blog that gives step-by-step instructions on how to tune up a car. Find a topic that interests you.

I have a passion for fashion, but there are thousands of blogs dedicated to fashion. I had to figure out a way to differentiate myself. What I love most within the fashion industry is ethically sourced and made fashion, so I've decided to focus on that. Hone in on your passion and blog about it.

Don't compare yourself to others

Don't you dare research how many followers another blogger has on Instagram or compare your content to another blogger's. It's good to research so you can become inspired to better your own blog, but never, ever, ever feel bad about your content. Blogging is a never-ending learning experience.

Be consistent

Post to your blog on a regular basis. Honestly, this is not one of my strong suits. I consider myself consistently inconsistent -- a quality that isn't ideal when you have followers who await your next post. I suggest sitting down with a calendar and planning what and when you'll post. I've found that writing things down holds me accountable.

Most importantly, enjoy blogging. Most of us have full-time jobs and interests outside of our blogs, so don't put too much pressure on yourself and your blog.

Blogging has become one of my favorite hobbies. I hope it becomes one of your favorites, too!

Carly is the founder of Hippie and Heart, a blog dedicated to ethical and Fair Trade fashion.

2015-07-24
]]>The Trainwreck Magic Mike Dance-Offhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26926&blogid=142
We’re living in an age of unprecedented female talent and, more importantly, widespread recognition for female talent. It is an age in which female protagonists can tell stories from a woman’s point of view on TV, Netflix and the “Silver Screen.” ]]>Lindsey_22015-07-23T15:03:37ZTwo messages about female sexuality at the movies this summerBlair Chavis

Trainwreck

We're living in an age of unprecedented female talent and, more importantly, widespread recognition for female talent. It is an age in which female protagonists can tell stories from a woman's point of view on TV, Netflix and the "Silver Screen."

These women can be strong, ugly, brash, sexual and downright sassy. Katniss is fighting governmental tyranny in the
Hunger Games
trilogy, and Olivia is covering it up in
Scandal. The female experience is examined with a poetic and dark magnifying glass in
Orange is the New Black
through careful personal narratives and broader commentary on the criminal justice system. Tina Fey, Amy Poehler, Mindy Kaling and Zooey Deschanel are reminding us to laugh at ourselves and peel back the layers of femininity while also embracing them.

More than anyone, however, Amy Schumer has been my feminist hero in recent months. Schumer's
Inside Amy Schumer
on Comedy Central is an unapologetic affront to sexism and misogyny everywhere--from the media to interpersonal relationships and experience. Each week, her show poignantly tackles how women are portrayed in micro and macro levels in society via humorous vignettes with celebrity guest appearances. Schumer's honesty and no-nonsense wit has gained widespread acclaim among men and women, which is very exciting, given that she appears to have a feminist agenda.

I first saw
Schumer live at the YLD Big Event
a couple of years ago and I was floored with her performance. Until viewing her stand-up and TV show, I had yet to see a female performer tackle feminist issues in such a self-conscious manner. Schumer is taking society's narrative about what it means to be female and prodding it with her big humorous stick (pun intended).

Schumer somehow has managed to toe the line between sexual humor and female empowerment. She has revealed both her seemingly extensive sexual experience and also her support for a healthy female identity. This is not an easy line to toe, as women are often boxed in (also pun intended) as a "Madonna" or "whore."

Because I've gained so much respect for her, I had been anticipating Schumer's film debut,
Trainwreck, for months. So, I was surprised that I came away from the film disappointed--or rather, conflicted. With her film, Schumer managed, in some ways, to stray from what seems to be her mission of building women up.

Trainwreck

I was pleasantly surprised to find the story had substance beyond her incredibly humorous moments and jokes, but I found it disappointing that the movie teetered on becoming the cookie-cutter romantic comedy we all love/hate and know. Schumer played it safe, and there were times when she also appeared to betray the self-empowered woman I believed her to be. There were many small moments in the film that felt like we, the audience, should wave our fingers and slut shame Amy (the protagonist). The movie is about her journey from a slutty "train wreck" to a tamed and "open-minded" girl in love.

As someone who has been out in the dating world for years, I understood and appreciated her humor around feeling disenchanted and even cynical about dating. But this movie felt like a cautionary tale about a 30-something who just needs to stop drinking and having so much sex.

That said, I really enjoyed Anne Helen Petersen's feature on BuzzFeed.com, "In 'Trainwreck,' Amy Schumer Calls Bullshit On Postfeminism," in which she posits that Schumer's film actually provides real and poignant commentary on post-feminist ideals. Schumer's character, Petersen explains, in the face of misogynistic stereotypes, embodies them, and then learns how to let them go and get out of her own way in order to be happy.

"Trainwreck
suggests that neither romance, children, sex, shopping, jobs, sick apartments, nor even friendship with LeBron James can provide a shortcut to happiness," Petersen writes. "Instead, confidence, self-knowledge, and mercilessly rejecting anyone or anything that makes you feel like shit--especially the contradictory demands of postfeminism--that's
something like bliss."

Even if
Trainwreck
is about radical acceptance, I still struggle with it.

Spoilers ahead: Amy's journey closes with her conceding to be more accepting of kindness, stability and sports--all in the name of love. The film ends with her dressed as a cheerleader performing to her love interest, Aaron's (Bill Hader), favorite song, Billy Joel's "Uptown Girl," alongside a team of cheerleaders.

This moment was the nail in the coffin for me. Amy plays the cliché cheerleader to indicate to Aaron that she can compromise and truly integrate herself into his life. Earlier in the film she states she doesn't like sports; by the end, falling in love means becoming the weakest personification of herself--and maybe the sports community. She lets her guard down, I suppose …

A week or so before
Trainwreck, it so happens that I saw
Magic Mike XXL, and with much irony, I must admit it deserves some high marks for encouraging female sexuality. Obviously, a movie about male strippers is going to appeal to a female audience, but the movie consciously promotes and opens the gates for female sexuality.

Magic Mike XXL

Playing a strip show ringleader, Jada Pinkett Smith offers a window into a modern-day, female-focused brothel/pleasure house for women, in which she preaches self-esteem and the values of female sexuality. Via Pinkett Smith's performance and others' throughout the film, we truly experience the female (sexual) gaze, as many women experience it (or hope to experience it), something Nina Friend reflects on for The Huffintgon Post in
"The Female Gaze Is Real In 'Magic Mike XXL.'"

Friend quotes the prominent feminist YouTuber Laci Green:

"In 'Magic Mike XXL,' 'people of all ages and sizes, races and gender expression are free to be sexual on their own terms.' Therein lies the Female Gaze: Women in this movie are given power over their sexual desires--something we rarely, if ever, see on the big screen."

The
Magic Mike
sequel is silly and very poorly written at times, but it captures a sense of pride and empowerment about sex that
Trainwreck
truly lacks. There is even a moment in the final act (small spoiler alert) in which one of the strip show montages plays on the marriage fantasy and dually incorporatesracy sexual innuendos and play. This performance encourages women who can want and have it all--the fairytale and the wild sex they might desire.

I also recommend
"The Gender Politics of Magic Mike XXL"
in
The Atlantic, which provides three writers' perspectives on the gender politics of the film, and offers counter points, including one that the film provides a story of "what women want" according to men …The film is surprisingly complex, and I encourage you to review these perspectives outlined as well.

So, stripper or cheerleader: Which do you do choose?

If you've seen either or both of these films, comment below with your thoughts!

2015-07-23
]]>My Workout Heavenhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26911&blogid=142
I have found my workout heaven. It’s a place where I’m accepted, I belong, and I feel motivated to do my best. But first, let me tell you what my workout heaven is NOT.]]>Lindsey_22015-07-20T13:57:34ZLia Lehrer

I have found my workout heaven.

It's a place where I'm accepted, I belong, and I feel motivated to do my best.

But first, let me tell you what my workout heaven is NOT:

1. Boxing gyms. I tried one because a friend found a coupon for a free class. It was probably the most intense workout I've ever had -- sprinting, running, more lunges than I've ever done in my life, and then punching and kicking a bag as if it were your worst enemy. It's possible I might have been so exhausted that I shed some tears -- or was that sweat?? -- no, they were legitimate tears. Meanwhile, the instructor didn't explain the terms -- something about upper crust? I thought that was a bakery -- and I felt a bit stupid.

2. Running on the street. I might someday become that girl who suddenly picks up running, little by little, and then runs marathons, but so far that hasn't happened. For now, it's hard, and then the whole world -- and all of my friends in my neighborhood -- have to watch me suffer.

3. Sports. I wish I liked playing sports for exercise, but again with the whole embarrassment thing. Remember how in college they had the professional level, then the "club" level for the pretty serious kids, and then the "intramural" level for the kids playing on teams with their dorm-mates? I need a level below that, for people who don't always remember the rules of sports but need a ball to hold and a team to be a part of to distract them while running.

After trying those and many other workout activities unsuccessfully, my ears perked up when my coworker mentioned her Aqua Zumba class. I used to like swimming, I thought. This could be good. I signed up in January and I've been going weekly ever since.

Aqua Zumba -- a water aerobics class -- meets at the
Lutheran General Hospital Fitness Center
in Park Ridge, Ill. It's sort of on my way home from work, and for $5 a class, it's certainly worth it. I arrive in the pool 20-30 minutes early and swim laps, recalling my front crawl, breast stroke, side crawl, and, my personal favorite, the "Monkey-Airplane-Soldier" strokes from my swimming lesson days.

The members of the class trickle into the pool, chatting, and then the music starts. The instructor leads us through a warm-up and then into our upbeat Zumba moves -- but we're all under water. Dragging your arms in the air might not do anything in real life, but under water, there's resistance and it's a real muscle workout. Running a few feet outside is no big deal, but running a few feet under water -- it's quite different.

Our instructor dances to fun Latin songs with an occasional "Uptown Funk" thrown in there, and I appreciate the no-pressure environment. Can't kick your leg all the way up in the air? No problem. Starting with your right arm instead of your left? No biggie. Need to take a break? Who cares? We are told that we are doing a good job, and we're even encouraged to sing along with the music.

I follow the moves, I tune out, I make next week's dinner plans in my head, and I enjoy some brainless, stress-free time to myself.

Oh, and the best part -- I'm the youngest, skinniest, fittest, most in-shape person in the class. When I go to the gyms in Lakeview, I'm surrounded by girls who are much better at it all than me; but here, in the comfort of the Lutheran General Hospital Fitness Center, I'm the one to watch, the most flexible, the highest jumper. It might not be fair, being 30 years younger than most of the other people, but you know what, it's doing wonders for my self-esteem.

So, one of these days, join me in the pool -- I'll show you my new moves to the latest Pitbull songs and I promise -- no lunges.

2015-07-20
]]>My Cubs Inheritancehttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26799&blogid=142
I have been a Chicago Cubs fan for as long as I can remember. Before I even knew the difference between a ball and a strike, I proudly wore Cubby Blue. I’m not a Cubs fan because I’m a North Sider and I’m certainly not a fan because of their track record. No, I am a fan because the Cubs were my grandpa’s team, so they are my team.]]>Lindsey_22015-07-17T11:57:21ZJenna Cohen

I have been a Chicago Cubs fan for as long as I can remember. Before I even knew the difference between a ball and a strike, I proudly wore Cubby Blue. I'm not a Cubs fan because I'm a North Sider and I'm certainly not a fan because of their track record. No, I am a fan because the Cubs were my grandpa's team, so they are my team.

Grandpa Bill didn't have a particularly idyllic childhood. A young Jewish immigrant, he and my great-grandmother, Edith, fled Nazi Germany in 1939 and after a time in Shanghai, were rescued to Chicago. My great-grandfather, Herbert, was able to join them in the U.S. a year later. My family was fortunate to have survived the war, but they still faced many challenges, especially Grandpa Bill.

In America, as in Germany, Grandpa was singled out for being different. He was German. Changing his name from Wolfgang to William couldn't hide that in Chicago just as taking off his Star of David couldn't hide that he was Jewish in Breslau. When his classmates heard his accent and saw his blonde hair they called him "Nazi." When he observed the Sabbath on Friday nights, they called him "Christ Killer."

However, despite these experiences, Grandpa found joy in many things -- a good book, a nice meal, a fine piece of music, his family and of course, the Chicago Cubs. He loved everything about Wrigley Field, from its iconic ivy to the shout of hot dog vendors marching up and down the stadium aisles. He read every book about baseball he could get his hands on and, as a result, he knew just about everything about baseball, from the Golden Age of Babe Ruth on.

But it was Ernie Banks who was his favorite player. Ernie personified what Grandpa loved about the Cubs: it was all about the joy of the game. "Let's play two," Ernie would say, and Grandpa thought his attitude was infectious. He loved the '69 Cubs, and taught my mom and uncle to appreciate them, too, pointing out the elegance of a Kessinger-Beckert double play, the consistent fire of strikeout champion Fergie Jenkins and the power of slugger Billy Williams. To this day, my mom has her collection of baseball cards in her keepsake box -- including the entire 1969 starting lineup.

Given Grandpa's passion for the baseball, it was only natural that he shared his love of the game with his grandchildren. I have fond memories of huffing up Wrigley's cement ramps and flagging down the elusive malt vendors with their dark blue freezer bags; of sifting through racks of crisp jerseys and singing "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" with Grandpa at the top of my lungs during the 7th inning stretch.

As I got older, it became less about peanuts and Cracker Jacks and more about enjoying a rare opportunity to spend time alone with Grandpa. At family gatherings, it was hard to get a word in edgewise since, like any group of Jews, we talked over each other incessantly. But at the ballpark it was just the two of us. With Grandpa, it felt like I could talk about anything, from books and music to tougher subjects like struggling friendships and picking the right college. Somehow, talking with him made the playful subjects in my life more interesting and the daunting subjects more palatable.

Unfortunately, we had our last talk at Wrigley in 2012. The following year, a brain tumor felled the body, but never the mind, of my amazing Grandpa. For the last two summers, our seats at Wrigley sat vacant. But this year, we filled them again and then some when my mother, father, uncle, cousins and I returned to Wrigley to celebrate what would have been Grandpa Bill's 78th birthday. We laughed and sang and drank bad beer, we talked about books and tough life choices, and we remembered the amazing man who made such a profound impact on our lives.

Amid all the bodies and noise of Wrigley Field, it was easy for us to imagine him in the stands clapping his hands and shouting, "Let's go Cubbies!"

2015-07-17
]]>Dealing with Anxietyhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26794&blogid=142
“Anxiety does not empty tomorrow of its sorrows, but only empties today of its strength.” I love this quote! But sometimes we have to ask ourselves … now what? How are we supposed to deal with the natural anxieties of life? I think we can begin to answer that question by understanding the mechanisms of anxiety.]]>Lindsey_22015-07-16T15:59:47ZJoshua Marder

"Anxiety does not empty tomorrow of its sorrows, but only empties today of its strength."

I love this quote! But sometimes we have to ask ourselves … now what? How are we supposed to deal with the natural anxieties of life? I think we can begin to answer that question by understanding the mechanisms of anxiety.

Anxiety is a three-part process. The first stage is the assessment. I have a few kids, and it's amazing to watch how they assess the same situation in such different ways. When they all see a big heavy dog walking toward us on the sidewalk, for example, they respond differently. The youngest smiles and reaches out her hand to pet him. Another is apprehensive, but also wants the chance to pet the dog. Another has now crossed the street to retain a 200-foot distance at all times from being anywhere near what she assesses as a situation with a potentially vicious monster. We all assess life situations differently, and that assessment is the first stage of setting up whether it's going to be a moment of anxiety or not.

The second stage is the feeling of being an outsider, or a foreigner. This is a sense of discomfort. In an abstract sense, it's a feeling of insecurity. When experiencing anxiety, we start to feel unsafe and scared in our own skin. Where we used to feel security, we now feel discomfort.

The third stage is when we retract into ourselves. This actually happens physiologically with our blood going to our vital organs, and it also happens emotionally. We are no longer able to connect with the world outside of us; we are cut off from whatever is going on around us. We don't have the relaxed comfortable presence of mind required to think outside of ourselves.

Interestingly, these three stages are alluded to in one Hebrew word, "gur." Although the word is used in reference to fear (see
Numbers 22:3), the word actually has three meanings according to the Midrash, a compilation of the philosophical teachings of Talmudic Sages. These three meanings are: "assessment of danger," "foreign," and "to gather in." They correspond directly with the three stages of anxiety.

In terms of the first stage, if we can reassess the situation through another lens, we may see that it's not as dangerous as we thought. A simple tool would be to ask a friend for their opinion. You might be surprised at what others see as danger or not.

Regarding feeling foreign and insecure, you can combat that by being proactive to do things that make you feel more secure. These can be as simple as checking in with a loved one, calling home, hanging out with friends, texting your sibling, or spending time with your special someone. Do some self-exploration, and try to figure out what it is that makes you feel really secure and comfortable inside (thriller rollercoasters may not be the first option here).

The third stage of disconnect can also be remedied. Similar to the second stage, we need to make special efforts to connect with others. That's not always easy to do when in a state of fear or anxiety, but it is all the more so important. Our friends, family, and community provide us with the stability and support to make it through trying times. As the eternal song of the early '80s taught us, "For good times and bad times, I'll be on your side forevermore. That's what friends are for!"

I don't think we'll ever reach a place of looking forward to anxiety to deal with. However, when those moments come up, I hope we can provide each other the support, love, perspective, and understanding to make it through them. And hopefully we'll come out with even better tools for life in assessment, security, and connections.

2015-07-16
]]>Loving the Little Thingshttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26788&blogid=142
Well hello there! Welcome to my Oy! post, “Loving the Little Things,” a post that could have also been titled, “Enjoying the Small Stuff” or “Appreciating the Wee Wonders” or “Insert Synonym-Filled Title Here.”]]>Lindsey_22015-07-15T10:53:09ZAdam Daniel Miller

Well hello there! Welcome to my Oy! post, "Loving the Little Things," a post that could have also been titled, "Enjoying the Small Stuff" or "Appreciating the Wee Wonders" or "Insert Synonym-Filled Title Here."

For you see, I love synonyms. You might even say I love different words with similar meaning. But I digress, meander and ramble. For me synonyms, in a strange, curious and atypical way, make me happy, jubilant and tickled pink. I'm very particular on the color in which I am to be tickled. This is because I try to enjoy the little things in life --those moment's that may be small to others, but huge to me.

There is a lot of hustle and/or bustle in all of our lives, and taking the time each day to notice to good or special moments in between can show me when a bad day was actually worth getting up for. So while I don't mean to get on my soap box here (there was an abundance of soap on sale for Amazon Prime Day and I didn't know I needed it until I bought it), I want to share with you some of those minuscule moments in my life that make it all the more full for having happened, so that maybe you see in your own life where those moments exist as well.

I revel in realizing the potential for small opportunities and taking them. As silly for me as it is, at the Blackhawks parade last month, I noticed Red Bull distributors on the street giving out free energy drinks. Therefore, I took the opportunity to keep walking by them to get free cans. I did this four times, wearing different disguises and putting on different voices, of course. But what I found true pleasure with this was then giving some of them to my coworkers to help give their day some feathery appendages. (I can't say the actual slogan for Red Bull, but either way my phrase is funnier).

Additionally, I enjoy opportunities that come from exploring a new neighborhood, and discovering a place that has a lunch deal for a Chicago-style hot dog, fries and drink for under $6. It's such a small thing, but I don't shut up about how stupidly happy that makes me.

While those previous moments happened rather organically, I am not a fan of expected celebrations/holidays, so I instead sometimes create, invent or fabricate my own. This is something I get from my parents, actually. I celebrate random milestone days. Like with my girlfriend, I celebrated us dating for 300 days, and more recently, for 1 million minutes. Having literally hundreds of thousands of minutes, you would have thought she'd have seen it coming. Or one of my more prolific, productive and worthwhile celebrations was that of me turning 10,000 days old. It is always nice to have anything to celebrate, even if I force it.

I also have impeccable appreciation for amazing, unbelievable coincidences in my life, which you can read about in more detail in my previous post, "Amazing Unbelievable Coincidences." I bring this up because it happened again recently, but in a way I never expected, predicted or prophesied.

My girlfriend and I were walking to Manny's Deli like every Jewish Chicagoan should do when they are awake, and on the way we ran into an old acquaintance of mine from high school. Here's the crazy, kooky and wacky part. I go to introduce my girlfriend to said old acquaintance, and it turns out she knows him from college. To me, it's a truly amazing, unbelievable coincidence (tying it back to the top of the paragraph!) that we knew the same person exclusively at completely different times in our lives. Once again, my mind had the appropriate reaction that comes with putting a leaf blower near my head: blown.

One final thing I love is how this article is little! It's barely even 800 words and that's what makes it great! Because great things come in small packages. Except for my Super Nintendo. That came in a big package. So perhaps, maybe, possibly this article is one of those little things you love? So now you can go do some other wee wonder, or minuscule marveling, or better yet -- read it again! It's easy, effortless, and a piece of cake.

2015-07-15
]]>Lighting up a roomhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26781&blogid=142
Every now and then, I think about a little girl I was lucky enough to meet when I first started working at JUF News.]]>Lindsey_22015-07-13T14:29:47ZCindy Sher

Michelle's high school graduation from Keshet in 2012.

Every now and then, I think about a little girl I was lucky enough to meet when I first started working at JUF News.

At the time, in 2001, Michelle Rappaport was just 5 years old. That afternoon when I visited her family's Buffalo Grove home, a happy little girl jumped off her school bus, bounded through the door, and wrapped a great, big hug around my leg, even though we'd never met.

"The room lights up when she comes in," Michelle's mom, Barrie, told me at the time.

I met Michelle and Barrie as part of a story I was writing about heroic families, whose children were afflicted with Jewish genetic disorders. Michelle suffers from a rare neurological illness called Familial Dysautonomia (FD), an autosomal recessive disorder -- meaning the disease is passed down through two carrier parents -- found almost exclusively in the Ashkenazi Jewish population. The average life span for people with the disorder is 40 years.

For those with FD, like Michelle, the sensory system doesn't do its job properly. If she touches a hot stove, her nerves don't alert her to remove her hand and she could easily burn herself without realizing it. The autonomic system -- which regulates body temperature, blood pressure, and swallowing -- doesn't function properly either. Finally, the "bells and whistles" sign of FD is crying without tears.

That day, when I met the Rappaports, Barrie informed me that she had read two articles about FD when Michelle was a baby, pre-diagnosis. All the symptoms they described matched her daughter's.

It was only then, after Barrie read those articles, that she and her husband were able to diagnose her daughter's illness. "I remember sitting there frozen, thinking this is my child, this is my child," Barrie recalled.

One of those articles, Barrie told me, had appeared in JUF News. It was a lightbulb moment for her -- and for me, too. I realized that our work at JUF was, in some way, helping people like the Rappaports. That realization has motivated me for so many years to do my job better.

Similarly, the staff at the Center for Jewish Genetics, based in Chicago, is making a difference in people's lives every day. The Center seeks to create a healthier, more informed community by educating healthcare professionals, clergy, and-particularly-individuals of Jewish descent about Jewish genetic disorders and hereditary cancers, and about the importance of genetic screening and counseling. In 1999, just a couple years before my visit with Michelle, the Center was launched as a cooperative effort of JUF and the Ann and Robert H. Lurie Children's Hospital of Chicago, as a result of a grant submitted to the Michael Reese Health Trust.

One in 4 Jews is a carrier for a Jewish genetic disorder. While carriers are generally healthy, their children may be at risk for a serious disease. Most Jewish genetic disorders are autosomal recessive, so an individual will develop the disease only if he or she receives the same mutated gene from both parents. Therefore, both parents have to be carriers for the same condition. If they are, they have a 25 percent chance in each pregnancy of having an affected child.

We in Chicago are lucky to have a genetic center serving our community. The only other cities in the country with Jewish genetic centers are Atlanta, Miami, New York City, Philadelphia, and Phoenix.

One of the programs offered by our Chicago Center educates and screens people in their childbearing years. The Center recommends that anyone of Jewish descent be screened for Jewish genetic disorders. Even if only one partner is Jewish, it's recommended that the couple be tested, because none of these disorders are exclusive to the Jewish population. In fact, even if only one grandparent has Jewish ancestry, the Center advises screening. It's best to screen before conception, when couples can choose from the widest array of reproductive options.

The Center's program features online education and an at-home saliva test (instead of the in-person seminar and blood test in the past), and currently screens for more than 80 genetic disorders. The screening costs no more than $199 per person. In comparison, screening at a hospital costs anywhere from $500 to $3,000 depending on insurance coverage.

Today, all these years later, Michelle still lights up the room. She's now 20 years old, "a true milestone," Barrie told me recently. She said that with the love and support of her family, friends, and a medical team, her daughter has come a long way and weathered many storms, including being sick for months on end.

But in the past two years, life has been much more stable for Michelle, ever since she started a new trial medication. Michelle has attended Keshet -- a partner with the JUF in serving our community, which serves people with special needs -- since the second grade, and currently is enrolled in the Keshet COE-Worker Transition Program, which empowers students with special needs as they exit the formal education system. She also works several jobs, plays baseball, and spends time with her 16-year-old sister, Jessica.

As they seek the best ways to deal with FD, Michelle and her family are facing life's toughest challenges with courage and grace. They are a light and a lesson for the rest of us.

2015-07-13
]]>3 Uncomfortable Conversations All Observant Jews Havehttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26768&blogid=142
I’ll always remember the day I told my parents about my decision to become more observant. I was in Israel with knots in my stomach, unsure of how they’d respond to my decision.]]>Lindsey_22015-07-08T15:30:36ZAnd how their friends can support themAdam J. Miller

I'll always remember the day I told my parents about my decision to become more observant. I was in Israel with knots in my stomach, unsure of how they'd respond to my decision.

To my luck, it was painless and easy. We talked through how to make it work and it made my life back in Chicago that much easier.

Our 20s are a significant transition on its own, but for religious Jews who either grew up with this lifestyle or chose it later in life, it can be uncomfortable to say the least. For starters, this is - for many - the first time that a job forces us out of our bubble. It requires us to figure out a way to make our practices work with an employer who might not understand why we're running out the door at 2 p.m. in the winter months or why we won't necessarily eat at the same restaurants as the other employees.

These moments also extend into our social circles as well. If you're observant, these are a few of the awkward conversations you're likely to deal with; if you aren't observant but have friends who are, there are also some tips on how you can support them.

1. The shomer Shabbat conversation

At a time when being connected is everything, the concept of not using a cell phone for 25 hours a week seems unfathomable. Add in all the rules about not cooking, spending money, turning a light switch … you get the idea. Regardless of whether someone has been shomer Shabbat for a whole week or their whole life, turning down a team happy hour or Saturday brunch is never an easy decision, but one that someone observant will always take.

How to support your friend: Ask your friend if you can have a meal with them or meet them for a walk on the park. It shows you're accepting of their lifestyle and your religious friend will worry less about feeling like an outsider.

2. Having to explain their kashrut observance

Whether someone is kosher-style, eats veggie out, eats vegan out or requires a strict hechsher, there is always a level of awkwardness when it comes to food. The last thing a person who keeps kosher wants to do is offend their friend or employer. However, Chicago is a big restaurant city and restaurants are a natural place to socialize. Anyone who keeps kosher often finds themselves trying to strike the balance between looking like a picky eater and doing what makes them comfortable and it can be difficult to have to explain that reasoning.

How to support your friend: First, make sure you understand that their definition of kosher might be different from how another friend keeps kosher. The easiest way to support them is just offering to go to a kosher restaurant with them. If that isn't possible (the kosher restaurant selection is less than desirable in Chicago), then ask what they are willing to eat. Frozen yogurt places, a bar and coffee shops are always a safe bet. Whatever you decide, make sure it's equally as uncomfortable for them as it is for you.

3. Why they aren't around or at work much during the fall

It doesn't take a Jewish day school education to know what Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are about. However, you might not have learned about Shemini Atzeret or all the details that go into Sukkot. The fall holidays are almost always a stressful time for your observant friends as they try to stay above water at work while coordinating several Thanksgiving-sized meals over the next several weeks. This should hopefully not only explain why they essentially disappear from your life for a month and probably don't have vacation days for a winter getaway at the end of the year.

How to support your friend: Whether you celebrate the holidays yourself or not, this probably isn't the time to ask how their employer feels about all the PTO your friend is taking as it's likely to be a stressful topic of discussion. Instead, offer to come over and help cook for a meal or join them in a sukkah for dinner one night. The lesser known holidays can feel isolating when work is still happening, leaving them anxious for what awaits when they return.

While any observant Jew will tell you what they practice is extremely meaningful to them, they are also conscious that their lifestyle is different from the world around them. If you have a friend who considers themselves religious, support their lifestyle the same way you would with any other lifestyle by going the extra mile to make them a little more comfortable..

2015-07-08
]]>Teething, snacking and other parenting tipshttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26760&blogid=142
I’m four years into this whole parenting thing. It’s amazing you spend years learning how to do math, science, the arts, but nothing to prepare you with teething, potty training, or whining. It’s easier to get a baby than your driver’s license. I’m not downplaying the importance of driver’s ed, but we need some parent education.]]>Lindsey_22015-07-07T14:08:18ZRon Krit

I'm four years into this whole parenting thing. It's amazing you spend years learning how to do math, science, the arts, but nothing to prepare you with teething, potty training, or whining. It's easier to get a baby than your driver's license. I'm not downplaying the importance of driver's ed, but we need some parent education.

Teething

I blame everything on teething from about five months to a year, according to my wife. To my defense teething can cause fevers, crankiness, wake them up at night, runny nose - the list goes on. I do not agree with the adage, "better living through medication," but a little baby Advil goes a long way. The ice ring that you store in the freezer is also helpful. Much to my wife's chagrin I allow our 8-month-old to chew on my hand, which he seems to love, but those little teeth are like razors. It's probably not the best parenting tip.

Snacking

When I was little I remember getting snacks after school, and maybe fruit after dinner; now it's out of hand. Sure I condone snacking, a handful of almonds at 3 p.m. is better than overeating at dinner, but do kids need snacks for a five-minute ride to a park? How much of an appetite do you work up swinging? Maybe we have gone snack-crazy, but I am ok with it and usually leave the house with lots. Here are a few staples from our pantry:

Snacks are also great if you have a picky eater. A great thing to do with a picky eater is involve them in the cooking process. My toddler eats most things, but if it's something new, I'll have him toss in spices, mix up the batter, etc. and he's more prone to eat it. Although he's learned that fruit it not a treat, for the first two years of his life he thought blue berries were dessert. I'm not that mean, he still gets treats, just not every night. If you think sugar doesn't affect your child, they're probably eating too much of it. Childhood diabetes is sky rocketing and most of the time it's preventable.

The absent parent

I developed a new pet peeve. The absent parent is most obvious at the park or parties. These people are either on their phone, talking to friends, or don't believe in discipline. Watch your kid! There is a middle ground between corporal punishment and ignoring your child. The best method for us has been sticker charts. It's a little ridiculous that we made a chart for being good at nap time, but it worked. We also do time-outs, and barter with television time. Who knows what will work with baby boy number two. He already seems feistier than his brother, and he likes to be startled. Who likes to be startled?

I'm a little nervous but mostly excited for what the next few years will bring.

2015-07-07
]]>Interview with Indians President Mark Shapirohttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26756&blogid=142
There are owners and there are players, but general managers assemble teams and staffs. Who better to speak with than the president (former general manager) of the Cleveland Indians, Mark Shapiro.]]>Lindsey_22015-07-06T15:19:29ZJeremy Fine

There are owners and there are players, but general managers assemble teams and staffs. Who better to speak with than the president (former general manager) of the Cleveland Indians, Mark Shapiro.

Shapiro has pulled off some amazing moves (highlighted below). What you won't find below, however, is how everyone my age has some love for the Indians because of the movies Major League and Major League 2 (though definitely not Major League 3).

1. How do you get onto the baseball general manager/team president track?
There is not one answer to this question. When you find people who are successful it is because they are so passionate about that job that they are able to differentiate themselves in their highly competitive field. Everyone in baseball is smart. But each individual who is able to take what they are good at and use it to differentiate themselves, that includes players, will find success.

2. What was the best move you ever made for the Indians?
The Bartolo Colón trade was for sure the best transaction (The Indians traded Colón and Tim Drew to the Montreal Expos for Lee Stevens, Brandon Phillips, Grady Sizemore and Cliff Lee). But I think my best move did not necessarily involve players. I have also hired a lot of people for the organization. I believe I empower the right people inside the organization and those moves often outlive the player transactions.

3. You appeared in the movie
Moneyball. What was that experience like? Was it realistic?
It was not very realistic or factual. I was the assistant GM at the time when Billy [Beane] was working toward changing the As. However, the book and movie both portray, some importance that has been implemented in baseball by As and Indians.

4. The Indians just drafted Brady Aiken. Are you excited about that pick?
We are very excited. When you look at draft board at any time there are a variety of ways a team can lean. Brady was a tough player to evaluate because of his injury but we were pleasantly surprised who was still available. He is a player with great talent and character. It is a very exciting move for the Indians.

5. How difficult is it to let great pitching like Cliff Lee and C.C. Sabathia go? Do you keep in touch with players you trade?
An organization or GM keeps in touch with different players on different levels. There is a certain level of professionalism within the job that comes to the forefront with every move. I am still close friends with Sean Casey and Victor Martinez. Victor among the toughest because of who he is as a person. My hope is that their time with Indians is part of their foundation and is positive experience in their baseball lives. When players look back on their careers, more than the uniforms or cities they played for, it is the relationships that defined their careers.

6. Do you feel the National League will adapt the designated hitter?
I am not sure that adapting the DH would be the best idea but I do believe that with interleague play happening every day that clearly the MLB needs one set of rules.

7. What was your Jewish life like growing up and today?
I grew up in a Reform household bordering Conservative. Judaism was very important to my parents while I was growing up. We attended a Conservative synagogue and I had a bar mitzvah. It was always a big part of family and culture. Today, Judaism plays into my life through culture and also the values that religion instilled in me.

8. Knowing how passionate Cleveland fans are about LeBron James, if James wanted to sign a minor league contract with the Indians, would you entertain the idea?
This is an impossible question to answer. I am not big on adding unnecessary distractions around the players. I'd have to answer, what is his intent? The reality is, he is 31 years old. I have seen LeBron swing a bat and he should probably stick with basketball.

2015-07-06
]]>Pride and Perspectivehttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26752&blogid=142
As an out Jewish lesbian educator -- and the Executive Director of Gesher Chicago, a local LGBT organization -- I traveled to Israel in June with a delegation assembled by A Wider Bridge to better understand the country through the eyes of its Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender communities.]]>Lindsey_22015-07-02T16:21:04ZMy journey through the Holy Land with A Wider BridgeLaurie Grauer

As an out Jewish lesbian educator -- and the Executive Director of
Gesher Chicago, a local LGBT organization -- I traveled to Israel in June with a delegation assembled by
A Wider Bridge to better understand the country through the eyes of its Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender communities.

Founded in 2010, AWB connects LGBT communities in the U.S. to those in Israel through year-round programming, online resources, and by sending LGBT delegates from the U.S. to Israel on trips like mine; AWB recently received a grant from
JUF's Breakthrough Fund.

It was the personal stories of those we met that impacted me most. There was
Yiscah Sara Smith, a transgender Jewish educator and author born a male. She struggled with her identity into her 60s before finding a community that accepted her and her transition as she accept herself.

This resonated with the theme of a Shabbat service I later attended in Jaffa co-led by a trans Reform rabbi.
Rabbi Sholom
of
Hebrew Union College in Jerusalem
explained that the Reform seminary was seeing an increase in LGBT candidates, as it was the only seminary in Israel that would ordain them.

Acceptance was epitomized at the
Jerusalem Open House, a struggling grassroots LGBT activist community center in Jerusalem. The House has organized a
Jerusalem Pride Parade
every year since 2005 and even hosted World Pride in 2006, but has only received government funding in the last year or so. There, I met Daniel and Ariel, a couple of 57 years who never officially came out but made a life for themselves in Jerusalem. They belonged to each other as much as they belonged to the city.

Our trip to the West Bank was eye-opening. Our Palestinian tour guide, Tamer, was a former social worker who had worked with LGBT clients, and now is a PR consultant for the Palestinian government. Tamer took us to the Security Barrier, a refugee camp, Bethlehem, Jericho, the Jordan River and Ramallah. He said, "It is hard to be gay in Palestine." We learned that while areas home to Palestinians, along with some neighboring countries, do not openly ban homosexuality, Israel is still the only country in the region that offers any form of comprehensive legal protections to the homosexual community.

On our way to Tel Aviv, we visited
Hannaton, a Kibbutz with a growing LGBT community -- in this case, five families … up from zero five years ago.

On the second day of the conference, we attended the inaugural session of the
Knesset's LGBT Forum, where they proposed a law to define crimes against trans individuals as hate crimes. Although the measure ultimately failed to pass several days later, those who sat in that room sensed that equity for all was on the horizon.

We didn't miss the opportunity to experience Tel Aviv's nightlife either, taking in the bars and the myriad of parties celebrating Pride. I attended Arisa-- named for an exotic spice-- which catered especially to Mizrahi (Middle Eastern) Jews. I danced with 1,000 Israelis while Yekutiel, a popular drag performer, sang (OK, lip-synced) her greatest hits.

Finally, there was the
Pride Parade, which began at the
Gay Center of Tel Aviv. No floats, only people marching. No designated numbers or a preset order, either -- everyone just picked up their banners and began to walk forward. Drag queens, families, and activists all marched as one. The parade ended at a huge outdoor concert featuring Eurovision's bearded winner
Conchita Wurst
where over 200,000 Israelis and world travelers gathered to celebrate.

I am still mentally unpacking all my experience in Israel. A Wider Bridge exposed me to a variety of people and viewpoints that laid the foundation for me to define my own personal views.

Israel is a safe place for those that identity as LGBT, but battles with the government and the rabbinate are far from over. Israel is a complicated place, complicated further with each person you speak to, but that doesn't mean you should stop speaking to people or remove yourself from the conversation.

"Gesher" means "bridge" in Hebrew. Our mission is, we say, to "bridge the gap between Pride and Tribe." I fully plan to make Israel and all its complexities a part of that bridge.

2015-07-02
]]>Sharing Our Religionhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26748&blogid=142
At a recent event I came across a vibrant, expressive man in the midst of a “mid-life opportunity,” surely not be confounded with a “mid-life crisis.” Ears perked, I asked him directly what brought him to this event. His eyes were perfectly still and fixated on mine as the words left his mouth.” After spending my whole life in the church, I’m leaving. I left. I’m making a clean break.”]]>Lindsey_22015-07-01T11:05:30ZMy unique Jewish identity continues to guide meAshley Kolpak

At a recent event I came across a vibrant, expressive man in the midst of a "mid-life opportunity," surely not be confounded with a "mid-life crisis." Ears perked, I asked him directly what brought him to this event. His eyes were perfectly still and fixated on mine as the words left his mouth." After spending my whole life in the church, I'm leaving. I left. I'm making a clean break."

Up until this point, church was a daily part of his life. He was a graduate of primary and secondary religious schooling followed by an undergraduate degree in theology from seminary. As a gay man, he felt the right thing to do was pursue a different path.

While religion, as it existed for him in the past, no longer appealed to him, he made another very interesting point. He said regardless of belief, he sees faith as a foundation for a moral compass. For him, this was a choice arrived at with major difficulty.

Naturally, this opened up a discussion of how others approach faith and their own personal experiences. It was clear that religion, in its many varieties, denominations and levels of observation, affected everyone in a deeply personal way.

I didn't grow up in a synagogue, not really anyway. I went to Hebrew school for a few years, learned about religion, culture, Hebrew and all that jazz. I don't keep kosher and I'm not observant. I connect to Judaism in my own way and that's what matters most to me. I like to look at my Jewish life as a carefully crafted mosaic, filled in with colorful moments that might seem disparate at the time, but when looked at from afar, are all connected to illustrate the larger picture.

Moments like my dad explaining the story of Anne Frank to me when I was very young; the countless hours spent learning the rudiments of my first second language at Hebrew school; my time in Israel on Birthright; my first Mourner's Kaddish for a family member; my eighth grade turn as Golde in
Fiddler on the Roof at a the local children's community theater; the fun, funny, frivolity of "bar and bat mitzvah season;" taking part in traditions that were passed down to my family from generations ago; and sharing those traditions with those closest to me and starting new ones.

Some fleeting and some enduring, these moments come together as my perfectly imperfect Jewish identity. They have and will continue to shape me and how I find my way in the world.

Sharing concerns and experiences surrounding religion can bring about a quiet, overwhelming empathy. While I may not pray every day, when I see a post from one of my favorite lifestyle bloggers concerned for the medical condition of her young child asking for prayers, it's only natural to oblige. To make someone feel better in even the tiniest of ways, thousands of miles away, for someone who believes in a far different way than I do, is always worth it.

Thinking along these lines draws me back to my absolute favorite storyline from this season of
Orange is the New Black. (Spoiler alert ahead, sorry!) Basically, for the uninitiated, many of the inmates figured out a loophole to get the best food in prison: asking for a kosher meal. Eventually, the administration got wise and cracked down on those deemed "non-observant". One of the inmates, even though turned away, embraced Judaism as her own in a very real way and gave an incredibly touching speech in the finale episode. I may or may not have teared up a bit? She found her people. And isn't that what it's all about? In the end, it's compassion that rules.

2015-07-01
]]>Grilled Corn and Avocado Saladhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26746&blogid=142
Last summer I decided to make a few changes in my life. I decided to eat super clean. And I realized that I am sick of being hungry. Anyone else? I was constantly feeling guilty about eating too much, or too wrong or too many carbs or too much fat. It’s enough!]]>Lindsey_22015-06-30T14:31:26ZMila Furman

Last summer I decided to make a few changes in my life. I decided to eat super clean. And I realized that I am sick of being hungry. Anyone else?

I was constantly feeling guilty about eating too much, or too wrong or too many carbs or too much fat. It's enough!

I decided to make a permanent change. No more quick fixes. No more fad diets. No more pills! But most importantly, no more starvation.

The irony is that, I coach people on how to lose weight. And I am told I do a great job at it. And people get results! But somehow, for myself I feel I need to starve in order to look thin.

One day, while sitting through another mind-numbing meeting, I started scrolling through my Instagram account. And pictures of food after food after food started popping up in my scroll. And then I saw this.

It was one of those moments where I felt myself awaken. This quote was so very simple. My greatest fears had been summed up into just a few words.

And as I pondered over my fear of failure, I found myself clicking on this person's profile and I was instantly enthralled.

Here was a woman who had transformed her body. In her before pictures she looked seemingly ordinary, but her story painted a different picture. She was so much like me. A girl who looked healthy and young on the outside but on the inside she was constantly worrying about every calorie, every morsel, every sit-up. Consumed with worry and fueled by her obsession to be skinny she turned to every fad including starvation and over-exercising.

Until one day she just got tired and stopped. She found a coach and he helped her change her life. Her after photo was beautiful. She was lean, strong and most importantly she looked to be genuinely happy.

I wanted to be genuinely happy too.

And so I spent the rest of the day emailing this girl back and forth. We understood each other. She told me her coach's name. Three hours later, I signed up with him and embarked on a journey that I hope can change my life for the better.

Being the loving and supportive husband that my hubs is, he bought me really cute workout pants and then said, "Now go and get fit!"

And I started running. Every day after work. I. Am. Not. A. Runner. I literally cheated every mile I ever had to run in high school. I hated it. But I followed my quote. I had nothing to lose, except fat.

So I turned on my Pandora, bought a Polar monitor, got a training app for running and I ran.

I walked a lot. I wheezed. I talked myself into it every minute. And I made myself a believer. Three weeks later I can run a lot longer than before. And I feel empowered. I feel strong. I lift weights too, heavier than ever. It felt fantastic.

After years of working out, dieting, calorie counting and eventually going back to my normal ways, I feel uplifted and positive. I feel like I can and will succeed. And this is not a race. It's a marathon. And there will be set backs and road blocks. But we are human. We overcome, we power through and we achieve.

Feel ready to battle the world?! How about at least dinner?

As a chef, it's tough not to put butter in everything, but this is just the uphill portion of my marathon. Once I am running full speed ahead I can start getting back to my beloved butter. For now, we are just going to set it to the side.

Doesn't this just look gorgeous? Like confetti in a bowl! Vibrant, fresh and clean flavors make this salad one of my go-tos for a healthy side dish.You have healthy fats in your avocado, nice sweet carby corn and loads of cilantro and lime. It comes together in minutes and is a real crowd pleaser.

1. First you need some roasted corn. I always soak mine in water right in the husk for about 30 minutes. Then I throw it onto a grill preheated to medium high and cook for about 20 minutes. Making sure to rotate every 5 minutes. Let it cool.

2. While the corn is cooling, dice up your avocado. While you are at it, dice your onion as well.

3. Chop up some cilantro as well. Roughly. There is no need for precision with that.

4. When the corn is cool, remove the husk and stand it upright and start slicing the corn off the husk with a nice sharp knife.

5. Place the kernels into a bowl with the avocado, cilantro and onions. Toss everything together with a spoon and season with salt, black pepper and juice of half a lemon.

Notes

You can also use frozen corn for this recipe. Just toast them up in a frying pan for a few minutes to get them charred a bit. Or throw them onto a sheet pan into a 450-degree oven for 15 minutes until golden brown.

2015-06-30
]]>Grandma’s Three Lessonshttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26716&blogid=142
Father’s Day marked one month since my grandma’s funeral. Her passing was the first loss of a close relative that I have experienced.]]>Lindsey_22015-06-25T16:34:34ZCarly Gerber

Father's Day marked one month since my grandma's funeral. Her passing was the first loss of a close relative that I have experienced.

Rabbi Steven Mason, the outgoing senior rabbi of North Shore Congregation Israel in Glencoe, explained to my family while we were preparing for my grandma's funeral that a person's emotions during a time of grieving can be like a roller coaster -- one moment you're crying and the next you're laughing at a memory of your loved one.

He was right. I went through bouts of tears knowing that the Sunday morning brunches I frequently spent at Country Kitchen in Highland Park with my grandma, her caretaker, Elizabeth, and my father were now only memories. Then I would laugh at a memory of Elizabeth not being able to remember something, to which my grandma's response was, "join the club."

My grandma was an incredible woman. Through her actions, she taught me how to be the best possible version of myself. So I want to share three lessons I learned from her.

Lesson One: Family is everything

My grandma's world revolved around her family. She loved nothing more than to spend time with us. Through her genuine love, she's influenced me to spend more time with my family and be grateful for every moment I spend with them.

Lesson Two: Embrace your femininity and never stop learning

Even during her later years, my grandma never ceased to astound me with her impeccable sense of style, witty remarks, and thoughtful responses. She not only dressed with style, but she was also humbly brilliant. She's inspired me to be thoughtful in how I dress and act, so I always present the best possible version of myself.

Lesson Three: Smile and laugh with life

Every single time I saw my grandma, she was laughing and smiling. She handled with grace the twists and turns of her life. I'm so grateful to have watched this amazing woman face adversity with poise because she taught me that my reaction to life's curveballs is what defines me.

Thank you, Grandma, for being a model of who a woman should be and for teaching me to never stop loving, learning and laughing.

2015-06-25
]]>Shakshuka: A Love Storyhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26711&blogid=142
Shakshuka, if you’re not familiar, is a Tunisian dish of eggs poached in a spicy tomato sauce. If you’ve never heard of it, mazel, meet your new favorite meal. If you do know shakshuka, welcome back!]]>Lindsey_22015-06-24T14:10:58ZJeremy Owens

Shakshuka! Shakshuka! Shakshuka! I bet you can't say it 10 times fast. You probably can't say it very fast more than once. I know it sounds like your new favorite curse word, but it's way more than that.

Shakshuka, if you're not familiar, is a Tunisian dish of eggs poached in a spicy tomato sauce. If you've never heard of it, mazel, meet your new favorite meal. If you do know shakshuka, welcome back!

I happened upon shakshuka a couple of weeks ago while browsing through cookbooks. A gorgeous picture of eggs in a tomato sauce leapt off of the page and into my heart. It's the perfect breakfast or lunch dish to make to show off for friends. You can serve it with a mountain of challah and/or pita on the side. I've only ever made it for dinner, because I don't want to have to share it with anyone!

There are many reasons to make shaksuka. The absolute number one reason to make it is that it tastes amazing. The second is that it's maybe the easiest recipe you've ever prepared. I've been completely obsessed since I first discovered it just a few weeks ago. Did I mention that it's a one-pot meal? What is better than that?

Remember! Cooking is fun and there is more than one way to get something delicious on your plate. If you're not in to jalapenos, maybe substitute green chillies. Don't like chickpeas? How about white beans. Get creative!

Add crushed tomatoes and their juices. Bring to a boil, reduce heat to medium-low, and simmer, stirring occasionally, until sauce thickens slightly, about 15 minutes. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Sprinkle feta evenly over sauce.

Crack eggs one at a time and place over sauce, spacing evenly apart. Transfer skillet to oven and bake until whites are just set but yolks are still runny, 5-8 minutes. Garnish with parsley and cilantro. Serve with pita for dipping.

2015-06-24
]]>Following the Masseshttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26702&blogid=142
I am not a big sports fan, partially due to growing up short and slightly overweight and partially due to growing up in a city without any professional sports (Wichita, Kansas).]]>Lindsey_22015-06-23T11:04:28ZNeil Harris

I am not a big sports fan, partially due to growing up short and slightly overweight and partially due to growing up in a city without any professional sports (Wichita, Kansas). Our entire city pretty much followed college basketball. We did have minor league baseball, hockey and soccer, but Wichita State University's baseball team was the main attraction.

My lack of interest usually comes to the surface during the weekly Kiddush in my synagogue when people start taking about trades, winning streaks and fouls. I usually just nod my head in agreement.

My 15-year-old son, Eli, however, is a fanatic. I keep up with the scores, watch some of the games with him (and let him explain things to me) and try to bond with him. It's important to show interest in what our kids are interested in. I see from friends that there is a special bond between parents and children when it comes to sports. My son has been wise to me since he was 6. He knows that I'm not as into it as other dads, but he's cool with it. He sees that I make the effort and I hope there is something to be said for that.

I do, however, look for opportunities to experience the excitement. Two years ago we went the Blackhawks parade and this year, thanks to a really good friend, we went to the rally at Soldier Field.

We got inside at 8 a.m. and spent two hours just hanging out and walking around. As the stadium quickly filled up there was definitely a feeling of camaraderie as a sea of red spread in every direction. The shared energy was much more tangible at the rally than at the parade. It could be the fact that at the parade you just wait for the players to pass and then go home that the excitement is transient. At the rally you are there before the parade, watch the parade on the jumbotron, watch the players get announced, hear all the thank-yous, lose your voice as 60,000-plus people sing "Chelsea Dagger" (although I prefer their other theme song,
"Keys to the City" by Ministry), then you join the flood of people and leave.

It's ironic that as a teenager, I was so against conforming and dressing like the masses. The blatant lack of individuality left a bad taste in my mouth. Of course, these days, I am just as guilty of conformity in dress -- well, in kippah -- as everyone is in my observant sub-culture. That being said, my son and I rocked our red jerseys. We cheered when the players came out and clapped after the speeches.

As I looked around, being part of the collective is what makes the experience something special. Sometimes the group is greater than the individual. It's that way in families, in school, in work, and in the way we connect with our Judaism. The unity among sports fans should be an example of how the diverse Jewish community should ban together for certain causes. Of course, easier said than done, but if you own a red piece of clothing then you're off to a good start.

2015-06-23
]]>Dressing for the Datehttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26697&blogid=142
A few weeks ago, people yelled at me because of my appearance and clothing choice. It was Saturday, the 30th day of the month of May, and I was overdressed.]]>Lindsey_22015-06-22T13:23:06ZNot just the calendarLia Lehrer

My winter coat and my summer dress are besties

A few weeks ago, people yelled at me because of my appearance and clothing choice.

It was Saturday, the 30th day of the month of May, and I was overdressed. In the morning, at synagogue, I wore a light jacket on top of a long-sleeved shirt, a skirt, leggings, and tall boots. In the evening, traveling to a wedding, I decided to go for my ankle-length down North Face "winter" jacket.

It was certainly a lot for May 30, and my friends had no qualms about telling me that.

"How can you be dressing like this? It's practically summer!"

"I can't believe you're wearing leggings and boots. It's May!"

At the wedding, there was a portable coat rack that traveled with us from the ceremony room to the reception room, and the whole night, it was home to a bunch of umbrellas and my ridiculous puffy jacket.

But I think I might have been the happiest person in Chicago that day.

Friends who ridiculed my clothing choice -- you are living in a fantasy world. You are living in a world where May 30 means "warm," where May 30 means "summer," where May 30 means "no jackets, no leggings, and just the warm, humid summer air and a cup of iced tea."

That world may exist somewhere, but it certainly ain't in Chicago in the year 2015.

How I wish I lived with you in this world! I wish I could be that girl who dresses for the date and whose bright yellow and pink outfit just screams summer and freedom and reminds you of that time when you throw your backpacks into your closet and get ready for a summer of stress-free fun in the sun.

But not me. I live in the world of "reality." I live in a world where, despite what the calendar says, Mother Nature has a cruel sense of humor and wants to keep us on our toes. I live in a world where we are given tools to help us survive each day -- not just a calendar, but also websites like Weather.com that can magically predict the future and guide our clothing choices.

I live in a world where you're never safe to put your "winter clothes" in the cedar closet for safekeeping from March 1 until December 1 -- I keep my winter clothes hanging right next to my summer clothes, because, hey, with all the back and forth in the Chicago weather, these clothes have become buddies.

Oh, how I wished I lived in a predictable land beneath the equator, where weather was always warm and the attitude was always that of summer. But, living in Chicago, the best city on the planet, you have to deal with the good AND the bad. And, friends, let me tell you -- the bad isn't
so
bad if, when it's cold, you're wearing a down winter coat.

So if the weather gets chilly again this week, don't be a hero. Whip out your winter clothes. Time to bring back your pretty woolen scarves, your fleece-lined leggings and your funky futuristic gloves with the special fingers that allow you to be warm and cozy while texting on your cell phone.

I once wrote that
summer is a state of mind; but that doesn't mean that if summer feels more like Siberia, we can't dress appropriately and be happy.

And hey, come mid-June, let me know if anyone wants to go sledding or have a snowball fight!

2015-06-22
]]>The Catskillshttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26692&blogid=142
I can tell you from personal experience that being a Jewish senior citizen in the summer back in the day was pretty fantastic. And you're probably thinking to yourself, how would a 24-year-old even know what it was like to live like a Jewish senior citizen from firsthand experience? And to that I would say, I'm 30 and thank you.]]>Lindsey_22015-06-19T16:24:40ZJennie Ellman

This story was performed at "Oy! Let Me Tell You …", a live Jewish storytelling event, on June 3, 2015. Check out a live recording of this story here.

I can tell you from personal experience that being a Jewish senior citizen in the summer back in the day was pretty fantastic. And you're probably thinking to yourself, how would a 24-year-old even know what it was like to live like a Jewish senior citizen from firsthand experience? And to that I would say, I'm 30 and thank you.

Let me just say that I am a relic. I am the last of what is known as one of the guests of the Dirty Dancing Kellerman era -- The Catskills -- otherwise known as the Borscht Belt, the Jewish Alps and Solomon County.

Some of you may be asking "What is this magical stateside promised land that I mention?"

Well, The Catskills are mountains in Upstate New York with a chain of resorts where mostly New York City Jews -- starting in the 1940s -- would come and vacation during the hot months.

Every summer, my family would pack up the car in Chicago, with my two younger brothers in car seats and a big rack on the roof with our luggage like we were the Griswalds -- without a TV or iPad or any electronic device -- and my dad would drive from Chicago, through Indiana, Ohio, Pennsylvania, New Jersey and then to finally upstate New York.

At the time, I did not like car rides and usually one of us would get carsick daily. Since this was back in the late 80s/early 90s, my dad had one of the first police radar detectors that was 75% accurate and he still managed to get pulled over for speeding.

Even though these were long car rides, my parents still did their best to make it fun. We would stop along the way and stretch out these car trips to fun places including Mr. Rogers Land at Idlewild Theme Park in Pennsylvania, Sesame Street Place Water Park in Pennsylvania and Hershey, Pennsylvania. So pretty much, it was a long car ride until Pennsylvania but my parents did their best to make it entertaining.

The reason why we went to the Catskills was because of my grandparents -- my mom's parents, otherwise known as my Grandma and Papa. Just picture the ultimate Jewish grandparents and they were it. My papa was a tough man who owned a used truck lot on the south side of Chicago. He worked seven days a week, long hours, until the state made a law that truck lots couldn't operate on Sundays and then Sundays became family days. He was a man's man but had the gentlest way when it came to his family, having raised all daughters with old-fashioned rules on their dating habits, and a huge soft spot for his grandchildren. He only called my grandma "Babe" and my grandma was a blonde beauty who loved to play mahjong and gamble. My grandparents were fun -- in their later years they would drive out to the casino after midnight and come home at all hours of the morning. They were always out on the town on Saturday nights and loved a good, long car ride -- hence the annual drive out to the Catskills.

Growing up, it was Thursday nights with them, Sunday nights with the extended family and then Concord trips in the summer where they would have the room directly across the hall from ours and we would keep our doors open and just run back and forth between the two rooms so that we could model our outfits for them. This was because my mom could dress us all in the same pattern. We have a family portrait of all of us in American Flag attire but it was 1991 and what else do you expect?

So anyway, living like a senior citizen as an old Yid at the Concord was luxurious. We would eat in the dining room where Tony, our waiter, would serve us silver dollar pancakes and grilled cheese at pretty much every meal. We would do water aerobics in the pool or play bingo or watch an artist do a painting, which literally translates to watching paint dry. There was nothing to do but to sit and enjoy and just be old together.

However, I was probably the coolest kid that there ever was because after our dinner with Server Tony, my parents would put my brothers to bed and I would get to go with my parents and my grandparents to the show. Every night, we would head down to the theater that almost looked like a cabaret -- or the Mayne Stage in Rogers Park -- where there were cocktail tables and you would sit and you would watch an act. Sometimes it was a magician (like in Dirty Dancing), sometimes it was a comedian (like in Dirty Dancing) and sometimes they would have really great musicians.

I remember walking through the main foyer where there was a daily polka band playing, and to this day, and I didn't know how but this man walked up to me and asked if I was Jennie Ellman. Now, this was before I knew anything about stranger danger and I was with my family and I answered yes, and he said something like I was selected to receive a gift by that night's guest performer -- Willie Nelson.

Now, I didn't know much about Willie Nelson except that this was a big deal for my mom who loves Willie Nelson, but I still have no idea how I got selected -- as I didn't have to carry a watermelon or anything -- let alone understood why a 5-year-old could win out of the entire resort.

Anyway, that night came and we left my brothers in the room and we went to the theater. I remember watching the first act and getting sleepy and then I remember Willie Nelson coming on stage, but that's pretty much all I remember. All I know is, I woke up the next morning and I had Willie Nelson's Farm Aid bandana that he wore to the Farm Aid benefit concert and it had Willie Nelson's autograph. I did not remember actually getting this, I didn't know how it came about. I was never a big drinker so this is really the only time I've ever really "blacked out" if you will, and I definitely didn't black out in this situation because I probably wasn't even five years old.

Sure enough, we got pictures back and there is my dad, onstage with Willie Nelson, and Willie Nelson was holding his FarmAid bandana and signing it, and there's my dad, onstage -- holding me -- a five-year-old sleeping Jennie. I actually slept through my Willie Nelson moment. So while Willie Nelson's "Blue Eyes Were Crying In The Rain" -- which is a Willie Nelson song title reference -- these hazel eyes were shut and sound asleep.

I always loved this story, but it wasn't until recently that I started loving it more. I was talking to my dad about this experience and asked him how I really got selected when he told me that he found a roadie crew member and asked him if there was anything that they were giving away that he could give to his daughter. The crew member gave my dad some guitar picks but then said that he may have something else and with that, the man came up to me and asked if I was Jennie (per my dad's information) and told me that I was selected. I had always felt special being randomly selected before in this story, but knowing my dad had his hand in the situation, and then also having those pictures of my dad carrying me while I was sleeping on the stage so that he could get me Willie Nelson's autograph, just proves how much my dad has always gone out of his way for me and has always tried to make me feel special.

So, looking back, these road trips were a strong foundation of what my parents had always tried to teach me, as we know, road trips are a great time to learn the adage of the "it's not just the destination but the journey" and all the spontaneity along the way, take time every day to enjoy the arts, and being together really could be the "time of your life" when you are with the people that are "Always On Your Mind" -- which is also another Willie Nelson song title reference.

2015-06-19
]]>Speaking Our Languagehttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26688&blogid=142
My dad's most special quality lies in the ongoing development of our "language."]]>Lindsey_22015-06-18T13:47:17ZJessica Hochberg

My dad is a pen collector, golf player, bookstore frequenter and gift shop enthusiast. My dad is a lover of philanthropy dedicated to many organizations both in the U.S. and Israel. He has inspired me to become involved in community service on campus and at home. My dad participates in Israel advocacy and has instilled a love of Israel in my family. My dad reads Hebrew newspapers to practice the language and books about Torah. Every Friday, he studies the Torah portion with a rabbi and blesses my siblings and me at dinner. He attends all dance recitals and basketball games.

However, in my opinion, my dad's most special quality lies in the ongoing development of our "language."

Our "language" can largely be reduced to our sometimes witty, sometimes deep, and at times ridiculous use of words. We analyze words' meaning, sing them, write them, and read them, and speak them together in three different languages: English, Hebrew and Spanish.

"Jessica, what are you up to today?" my dad asked me early one Friday morning. When he asks me that type of question, I know that it's only going one of two routes: a technology request, such as scanning something for him or figuring out how to download songs onto his iPad. The other route is less commonplace and more special: requesting that I speak our language by writing a song or speech in collaboration with him. We have written many pieces together, usually centered on various celebrations or holidays. We always delighted my family and friends who were our ever-present audience. On this particular Friday, that was his request.

The Hochberg family, including Jessica (second from left) and her dad (second from right).

"I need to send you a draft of speech I wrote in Spanish," he said casually. Normally, I would smirk at my dad's utter randomness and at his unusual interest in odd spontaneous actions that seemed to have no cause. However, I knew the cause of this impromptu speech in Spanish.

This past school year we hosted a high school foreign exchange student named Victor. Victor is from Brazil, and his family members had come to visit us for the week. My father, an accomplished high school debater and a frequent speech giver, decided to describe how fond we had become of Victor by delivering a speech entirely in Spanish. Although Victor speaks Portuguese, he understands Spanish, so my father deemed it necessary to create a speech in Spanish to deliver in front of our family and friends at our Shabbat dinner table.

Ever the adventurous speaker, my dad decided to use a language he had not spoken since high school to express his gratitude to Victor. Seeing as I studied Spanish in high school and college, I was more familiar with the grammar and vocabulary conventions. So, using my dad's insightful ideas and my knowledge, he and I composed a speech in Spanish. I also produced an English translation and we captivated our audience with our words. We read the speech paragraph by paragraph, alternating between Spanish and English. The audience laughed at the jokes, even when they were written in Spanish, and could tell our affection for Victor by the effort we put into our speech.

Afterward, many of our friends congratulated us on our successful endeavor and asked us how we were able to execute such an undertaking. My dad gave me a characteristic, suffocating side hug, and with that we mutually understood that this was a special use of our language that would not be our last. Our writing team was as efficient as it was fun, and we knew that our "language" of writing was sacred and precious.

"Jessica what are you up to tonight for dinner?" my dad asked me over the phone some time later. I knew where this was going. Another adventure for the writing pair of father and daughter; this time, a song for a family friend's bar mitzvah, a parody of the Chicago Cubs victory song "Go, Cubs, Go!" replacing "Cubs" with "Ben." We'd composed the lyrics on a paper napkin at dinner, each of us switching off verses and bringing forth new ideas. We even decided to add costumes and accessories to our performance. The delivery of the song was successful, if you measure success in effort rather than musical talent, and once again I was squished into a side hug. This was our connection; our special skill that will always provide a common ground for both of us to flourish, side by side.

Whether it's listening to Taylor Swift endlessly in the car, analyzing the lyrics to a seemingly tasteless rap song for some deeper meaning, or knowing the lyrics to songs so well that we can both recite the ad libs and fake laughter by heart, my dad and I always appreciate words, deciphering their meaning and understanding how they can be used in a larger or more meaningful context. We love reading and writing in the languages we know, and learning new things about languages we do not know. We find meaning where there seemingly is none and share our deep understanding of the world with each other. No matter the language, no matter the place, my dad and I will always have that connection.

So I hope this Father's Day brings my dad some great new books, some new knowledge of Torah, and many fond memories of our endeavors as a writing duo.

2015-06-18
]]>Cooking With Dadhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26682&blogid=142
Behold the midlife crisis: a stark realization and critical time of change. Most dads turn in their sedan for a motorcycle and their North Face for a leather jacket. Some dye their hair and join the local band. But not my dad.]]>Lindsey_22015-06-17T11:40:52ZLiz Kaydanovsky

Behold the midlife crisis: a stark realization and critical time of change. Most dads turn in their sedan for a motorcycle and their North Face for a leather jacket. Some dye their hair and join the local band. But not my dad. I actually got lucky with my dad's "midlife crisis;" I saw him transform into a master chef in a matter of weeks.

When my dad discovered cooking it was like he had awoken a sleeping giant, one of a passion for and connection to food. My father cooked masterpieces sans recipes or direction like he was one with the ingredients. Whatever he imagined would materialize into a beautiful dish that my family (and our stomachs) gladly "tested."

Ever since then, cooking became
our thing. It's more than a passion and quality time well spent -- it's a lifestyle.

My family background is Russian, and I'm technically zero generation. I was born in Minsk, Belarus, and I came here at the tender age of almost two. Nevertheless, my Belarusian culture greatly influenced my upbringing. One of my favorite parts of the culture (and any culture) is the cuisine. You are what you eat so there is no denying that food plays one of the most important roles in our lives.

There are many things I grew up loving that, let's just say, are probably on your "avoid" list to prevent a heart attack at the age of 40: meat for breakfast, lunch and dinner; mayonnaise as salad dressing; and baked goods galore. Don't get me wrong, there was also an emphasis on fresh and whole foods, but that wasn't really my cup of tea as a kid. I was lucky I grew up actively dancing and playing sports everyday; I never quite felt the wrath of "heavy" food.

As you get older, life becomes more static, yet more stressful. More than ever, I realized I needed food to fuel me, to keep me going and keep me feeling good from the inside out.

Around the time of my dad's "midlife crisis," he realized he too needed feel-good food. Not the sugar high kind but the "I feel like I can run a marathon" kind. My dad has always been very physically fit. Standing at 6 ft. 2 in., this is not a man you want to mess with. He can drop and give you 20 and casually do 15 pull-ups without really breaking a sweat. Fitness is one thing, however, but nutrition is a whole other animal.

You see, a state-of-the-art car without fuel or a battery is useless. And fitness is nothing without the right fuel. So my dad and I found ourselves on the same mission: how to create foods that are
both energy-fueling and something we're excited about.

Our eating habits evolved, and so did our cooking. Our diets began to mirror one another and there's nothing I enjoy more than bouncing ideas off of my dad. From smoothies to soups, salads to stir fry, and rice to ground turkey, we've helped each other perfect every single dish. We've really bonded over our appreciation for nutrition and our love of cooking.

Now it's something I'd love to share with all of you. A way to a man's heart, they say, is through his stomach, so on this Father's Day, there's no better way to say "I love you, dad" than preparing a hearty, healthy, dish.

The Perfect Brown Rice
Brown rice is a perfect and filling whole grain. This recipe gives it the consistency of fluffy oatmeal with your favorite rice-tastic taste.

You will need:
1-2 cups of dried brown rice (depending on how much you want to make)
Water
Your favorite veggies (think carrots, onions, mushrooms, cauliflower, broccoli, or zucchini)
Deeper pot and a stainless steel cooking bowl

Directions:
It's very important to soak the brown rice for 12-24 hours (at least try to soak it overnight) in room temperature water. The rice to water ratio should be about one to five: five cups of water for every one cup of rice.

Before cooking, pour out the water used for soaking and fill the bowl with four new cups of water for every one cup of rice.

You'll need a bigger pot and stainless steel cooking bowl that you can stack on top of the pot and close with a lid. Fill a quarter of the pot up with water and stack the steel pan/bowl of rice on top and close with lid.

Bring the pot to a boil and then down to a simmer. Now let it cook for an hour, and at that point throw in all your favorite veggies. You can also sauté the veggies before throwing them in to give it a slightly different taste. Let the rice simmer with veggies for another hour and it's done! You won't believe your eyes that this is brown rice when you see it. It's such a hearty dish and truly one of my favorites!

2015-06-17
]]>New Daddy Truthshttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26630&blogid=142
When my 1-year-old son, Johnny, was born I remember lifting him out of the basinet at the hospital for the first time. Completely swaddled in a hospital blanket, he was a fussy 8-pound burrito. I was in love with and in awe of him. We all had high hopes for him and our newly started family.]]>Lindsey_22015-06-16T10:52:59Z10 Observations after One Year of FatherhoodAndy Kirschner

When my 1-year-old son, Johnny, was born I remember lifting him out of the basinet at the hospital for the first time. Completely swaddled in a hospital blanket, he was a fussy 8-pound burrito. I was in love with and in awe of him. We all had high hopes for him and our newly started family.

A year later, we still have hopes -- we just haven't slept much. Needless to say, it's taken on a different meaning. This former 8-pound burrito is now a 24-pound giant jumping bean that never stops jumping.

At the start of each day, he cries from the other room to wake us up, and my biggest hope is really that nobody gets hurt that day. Come bedtime, I smile when my head hits the pillow, knowing that we barely made it. My last thought before falling asleep is always,
I don't know how we did it.

A few weeks ago I was sharing the plans for Johnny's birthday party with David, a good friend.

"You know I've always thought that we should be throwing these parties for the parents," he quipped. "I mean, you have kept another human being alive for an entire year. Congrats!"

David was right. Our life really had become about keeping this tiny, defenseless creature alive. I chuckled lightly, acknowledging the truth of his statement, while cynically recognizing that nobody was going to be throwing me any parties anytime soon. My party days are long gone, but I do have Father's Day to at least feel appreciated.

Over the last year, I've noted the ten biggest changes that come with first-time fatherhood, so for new dads or expectant dads out there, consider this some helpful advice.

1. Everything related to your kids is now a hot-button issue.

Cloth diapers or disposable? You made a choice, and you are now an expert at defending it. You won't let anyone tell you that choice was wrong. Breast milk or formula? You don't even lactate, but that snarky comment on Facebook just got somebody unfriended. Government officials are thinking about cutting funding for schools, and you show up to testify. And don't let anyone get you started on parental leave!

2. Showering every other day becomes a reasonable goal (and is optional on the weekends)

There is a moment when you are getting ready to leave the house. It's probably to go to the grocery store, the park, a play date, etc. Somehow during the morning nap, you were sucked into returning an email, checking Facebook, or squeezing in an episode of
House of Cards.
Well, the baby's awake, happy, and you have a very limited window before all that goes away, so you gargle some mouthwash, wipe yourself down with a baby wipe, put on a clean pair of underwear and get yourself out the door.

3. Spot-checking your clothing for traces of snot, spit-up and anything that your child has eaten that morning is a regular practice.

Maybe you haven't showered yet that day, but it still means a lot to you that you keep up appearances, especially at work. You know that you have completely lost your mind, but your boss doesn't.
Pro-Tip:
if you can see it on your kid's shirt, then it is probably on yours too. You ask someone you trust if anything crusty has found its way to the back of your shoulder when you went in for that big hug at the daycare drop off. You keep a change of clothes nearby at all times -- for you, not the child.

4. Never in your life have you been so invested in someone else's biological functions.

Did he poop? Is he wet? Did he eat that? Can he eat that? He really shouldn't eat that, right? Did he nap? Is he sleeping? Is he breathing?

If someone came up to you to sniff your crotch or check your pants, you might kick them, but somehow this is completely fine to do to your kids. This is how you communicate with these tiny little poop machines who can barely stand up on their own, let alone tell you that it's time for a change.

5. When the kid kind of hurts, you quickly learn to help him shrug it off.

If your child falls in the forest and nobody is there to gasp, "oh no!" do they cry? The answer is absolutely not. Very quickly, you learn to shrug off minor bumps, trips, and bangs. It's amazing how these children can bend and bounce in ways that would put any gold medal gymnast to shame. Treating every fall like a crisis means you would never get out of the house.

6. When the kid really hurts, that's when it really hurts you too.

Then there are moments at the doctor when he has to get three shots and you kind of want to punch the doctor for sticking him. Or he's sick, yet you calmly say the words, "okay now, just let it out … you're okay," while the little one projectile vomits all over you. When the fever spikes well above 100, and the kid just isn't himself, you have the will to stay with him all night just to make it better.

7. You compare your kid to every other baby you ever meet.

You swore that you would never be "that dad." You promised that you would let your child grow naturally and become the person that he wants to be. That all went out the window as soon as you found out that "Ethan" started crawling last month, and your kid can't even roll over. Naturally, it goes the other way too, usually at doctor check-ups. Ninetieth percentile for height -- that's my son, the future basketball player! By the way, his head circumference is off the charts, so he's likely to be captain of the team and a genius!

8. You get excited about the prospect of work travel because you sleep so well away from home.

Work is going to send you out of town for a few days to meet with some important clients. In the past, you would have scheduled in some extra time to meet up with friends, catch a show and take advantage of the night life. As a new parent, however, all you want to do is watch a movie at the hotel at a high volume because you don't have to worry about waking anyone up, then sleep through the entire night.

9. Then you get weepy when your spouse and kid drop you off at the airport.

You were excited about the high thread count on those hotel sheets, but now all you can think about is how quiet, lonely and empty the room is going to be without your family. Your head down, you try to make it through airport security as fast as possible, hoping to have time to call and say goodbye again before boarding. In the hotel, you end up watching a movie at a volume so low you can barely follow the dialogue, just because it makes you feel at home to keep the noise down at night.

10. Even though it's the most disruptive thing that has ever happened to your life, you couldn't be happier about it.

Being a father is not a constant stream of smiles and giggles, but that doesn't stop you from pulling out your phone to show them the latest pics. When an old woman smiles at your baby in the stroller or a young couple tells you how they love your baby's (insert hair, smile, sausage legs, outfit, laugh) you find yourself smiling the rest of the day. This bundle of joy has changed everything and most of it for the better.

It's been a long year of keeping this creature alive, and you couldn't be prouder. Maybe it's nothing like you hoped it would be at the beginning. Yet somehow, it's still everything that you always wanted.

2015-06-16
]]>My Stay-at-Home Daddyhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26624&blogid=142
I don’t think Joel Cohen ever dreamed of becoming a stay-at-home dad, in fact, I’m sure of it. If you somehow were able to go back in time and tell his 20-something self that he would spend his 40s making sock puppets and grilled cheese sandwiches, he would look at you like you had six heads.]]>Lindsey_22015-06-15T13:45:46ZJenna Cohen

As Father's Day approaches, our minds turn to the men who raised us, and -- as is customary -- we honor them with barbeques and fishing poles and colorful greeting cards that sing. But this year, I will break from my traditional gift-giving practices and try something new: a story for my dad.

While I admit, this choice is slightly influenced by the pitiful state of my bank account, I prefer to think of it as one of those "it's the thought that counts"/"it's perfect because my child made it" scenarios.

So, Dad, sorry there's no tackle box this year, I hope this story will do!

---

I don't think Joel Cohen ever dreamed of becoming a stay-at-home dad, in fact, I'm sure of it. If you somehow were able to go back in time and tell his 20-something self that he would spend his 40s making sock puppets and grilled cheese sandwiches, he would look at you like you had six heads.

You see, when he and my mother met in the late 1980s, Dad's life was all about classical music, contrary to the statement made by his Ringo Starr haircut. His life revolved around his roommates -- the percussion instruments set up in his living room. Dad practiced day and night, worked day and night too, tirelessly looking to become the best musician he could be. At times, his devotion was endearing; others, it was mildly concerning. Suffice it to say, my grandmother was elated when he brought home a girl instead of a drum for Shabbat dinner.

A few years later, my parents tied the knot and became the first Jewish couple to get married at the Chicago Athletic Association. The mahogany ballroom popped with touches of pink (that matched the bridesmaids' dresses) and the halls rang with the sound of the wedding march that Dad wrote especially for the occasion.

They had carefully planned everything for their new life. They sold their condos and bought a cute little house in the suburbs. Mom went to work each day at the American Cancer Society, and Dad worked the odd morning and evening hours of a professional musician. He picked her up each day from the bus stop at the corner and they walked home together. This system held true all throughout Mom's pregnancy and resumed shortly after I came home from the hospital, seeing as maternity leave was not yet a legal standard in the workplace. And the next thing my parents knew, without really planning it, Joel had become a stay-at-home Dad.

He said it was a great aesthetic improvement when the drums moved into the basement to make room for my bright pink dollhouse in the living room. He learned how to brush curly blonde hair but never quite built up a tolerance for the associated melodramatic screeching. Dad invented fanciful stories about my toys on our way to preschool and playdates and quickly won over the mothers of my classmates who didn't believe that men could provide the same loving care as their stay-at-home counterparts.

As I got older, story time evolved into science projects that destroyed the kitchen and hours spent arguing over math homework and music lessons. My daily refusal to practice for band made him emotionally short circuit, but he cheerfully ate the loaves of banana bread I made each week, something my mother was especially grateful for when I began experimenting with ground cloves and peanut butter. Even more impressive than Dad's culinary daring was his willingness to go to Walgreens and buy me pads when Mother Nature unexpectedly came to call. Bless him -- he always remembered to get the ones with wings.

Now that I'm grown, quite a bit has changed. I drive myself to playdates and buy my own pads, but I still ask for Dad's help when I'm testing out a new recipe, or learning a new song. I still call him for directions even though I have GPS on my phone and ask him questions that Google could easily answer. He remains one of my favorite shoulders to cry on and I love that he bombards my inbox with pictures of cats to brighten a rainy day.

So, with that said: Happy Father's Day, Daddy! Thank you putting up with me. You are a hilarious friend and playmate and an excellent parent. You keep me sane and you make me crazy. You make a mean "Frappuccino" and I'm very proud to call you mine.

2015-06-15
]]>Cravings and Contentmenthttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26504&blogid=142
My son and I have reached a new milestone. We can learn together! I’m not referring to math or science, of course, but Torah study. We open up the Torah together, start reading and -- here comes the best part -- we start blasting questions at each other left and right.]]>Lindsey_22015-06-11T15:22:33ZJoshua Marder

My son and I have reached a new milestone. We can learn together! I'm not referring to math or science, of course, but Torah study. We open up the Torah together, start reading and -- here comes the best part -- we start blasting questions at each other left and right.

Why did Moses say that? Why did the people respond this way? Isn't that an extra word? What's the Torah trying to teach us with this verse? And we start to make a list of our questions together. Then, after we fully prepared our masterpiece of critique, we go back over the list and start looking for answers through deeper analysis of the text, searching our ancestral commentaries, and through our own reflection.

So I want to share with you an example of the latter, an answer that came from a joint father-son reflection on last week's Torah portion.

On Shabbat afternoon, my son came to join me for our study time in the local Chicago Community Kollel (a place for advanced Torah study). We began our critique. The three verses we were scrutinizing came from Numbers (11:4-6), which takes place as the Children of Israel were in the desert on their long journey from Egypt to Israel.

The verses talk about a group of people amongst the Children of Israel who were beginning to crave meat. They start complaining about where will they find meat and describe all the fantastic food they were fed for free in Egypt. Perhaps you even thought of one of our questions, "there was no free food in Egypt! They wouldn't even give them hay for their bricks! What are they talking about 'free food?'" (If you're interested, Rashi's medieval commentary addresses this question). In the next verse as they describe their craving for meat they say, "But now, our life is dry, there is nothing…" We asked a simple question, "What do the words really mean when they said, 'life is dry,' or in Hebrew, 'nafshenu yevesha?'"

To answer this question, we utilized an exegetic technique of searching for where the word yevesha, dry, appears in the Torah to understand its true meaning. Interestingly, the word first appears in the depiction of the third day of creation. Before there was any life on the land, it says, "the yabasha, dry land, was revealed." We started to think about what the world looked like before there were any animals, flowers, people, or plants. It looked like an empty and desolate existence.

We then took our new meaning of the word "dry" as depicting an empty and desolate existence and applied it to our verse. They found themselves craving a desire for something they seemingly couldn't have. And once they were in a place of wanting something that they couldn't receive, they felt as if "our life is dry," an empty and desolate existence. Why? They were living through miracles every day! They just escaped horrific slavery not too long ago. What changed?

The answer is that one thing changed. They now felt a craving. They now desired other things that they couldn't have. This was too hard for them.

When we want something that's not within our ability to have, we begin to feel "dry" even though we're objectively not. I gave my son an analogy to explain our discovery in the text. It's like when a little child comes home happy from school with a big smile across his face. He remembers that there are popsicles in the freezer, and he asks for one. When his mother says no, all of a sudden his whole mood changes. He gets very upset, frowns across his face, and eventually he might even throw a tantrum. What happened? He was just super happy two minutes ago! The answer is what the text is telling us here.

We can easily lose sight of the good and beautiful things around us when we are consumed with cravings for things that are beyond us. We start to feel like our lives our dry, desolate and empty, even when they aren't. I then explained to him that big kids and even grownups are the same way. We can easily get consumed by what we don't have and lose sight of what we do. And the way to combat it is by focusing on what you do have, to be excited about the wonderful gifts you're given on a regular basis.

As for me, I will try to focus on the precious opportunity I have of being able to learn meaningful Torah lessons for life with my son.

2015-06-11
]]>Thanks, Chicago—for three generations to lovehttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26483&blogid=142
It's been five years since I called Chicago home, having moved to Miami upon experiencing a family tragedy. Then, I had no idea that JUF would be the source of two of my life's greatest blessings: my husband Michael Rosenburg and father-in-law, Kenneth Rosenburg z"l.]]>Lindsey_22015-06-09T13:58:13ZLisa Kudish Rosenburg

Dear Chicago Jewish community,

It's been five years since I called Chicago home, having moved to Miami upon experiencing a family tragedy. Then, I had no idea that JUF would be the source of two of my life's greatest blessings: my husband Michael Rosenburg and father-in-law, Kenneth Rosenburg z"l.

It was a JUF-sparked friendship that led to my 2005 life-changing introduction to Michael. I went on a JUF Ben-Gurion Society mission with Amy Winick. She soon began dating someone; he took her to a Shabbat dinner where she met Michael, and said to him then and there, "I have a girl I'm setting you up with."

Our relationship, which began with our dating, evolved into a friendship. Years later, it deepened with the shared grief of each having lost a parent prematurely. And then, when Michael visited Miami in July 2011, it unexpectedly deepened further.

After a whirlwind, long distance romance, we were married in November of 2012. One year later, we were overjoyed to discover that I was expecting our first child. From the pregnancy's beginning, Michael was the consummate husband and father -- protector of my well-being, fulfiller of my every craving, and fierce researcher of all items that would ensure the baby's safety -- from strollers and car seats to new tires for our vehicles. I carried our child, but my husband carried me -- with humor, affection, and the sweetness that's inherently Michael. Only he could make me feel so loved in my biggest, most swollen (read: third trimester in the hot Florida summer) months.

Since our son Noah arrived last August, it's been a crazy ride. We initially had a few medical issues to resolve. Thank God that is all behind us. But in those first trying months, Michael's calmness, coupled with his ability to care for a healing preemie and healing wife, were nothing short of heroic-all while managing a full work portfolio, maintaining the highest regard from his colleagues and serving on the board of our synagogue.

Earlier this year, we elatedly learned that I am pregnant again. This time, the demands are greater as doctors instructed me not to lift our now 9-month-old son. Without missing a beat, Michael assumed an even more significant hands-on role on nights and weekends. I live in awe of how he balances his demanding career with the demands of our family. I live in awe of his interaction with our child -- the playfulness, affection, and attentiveness to all aspects of Noah's development. I live in awe of how blessed I am to share a life and family with my amazing husband.

Michael's devotion to family and responsibility to community come from a home that nurtured it. My in-laws set wonderful examples as parents. And while I never had the fortune of knowing my father-in-law -- I am privileged to do so spiritually through Michael's anecdotes and actions. It allows me to continue developing a relationship with his father. And that will enable me to help our children grow to know and love their Papa Kenny.

One of the greatest gifts Michael has given me was under our chuppah. To include Michael's late father and my late mother, Naomi, in our wedding, we privately expressed to our Rabbi, for him to share during the ceremony, what our respective parents would have loved about our spouse. It was then that I learned of the JUF connection and passion for community that bound Ken and me.

In my 10 post-college years in Chicago, I immersed myself in JUF leadership opportunities through YLD, National Young Leadership Cabinet, the TOV Volunteer Network and Hillels of Illinois. Ken, a busy attorney, was quite immersed himself -- sharing his heart of gold with JUF since 1973, when he initiated the first communal residence for the elderly. He participated in the first Melton Jewish Leadership program, chaired numerous initiatives including the JUF campaign events at Yehuda Moshe and the Northside Lawyers' Division dinners for years, and served on JUF's Financial and Education board.

Thanks to JUF, for the gift of our meeting, Michael and I will celebrate his first Father's Day as Noah's daddy. Thanks to JUF, I celebrate a connection to a father and grandfather whom I never met, but greatly cherish. And of course, I celebrate my own wonderful father, David Kudish -- Noah's Zayde -- who introduced me to JUF and has always been a vibrant example of Jewish communal responsibility for me to emulate. I am forever grateful to all.

2015-06-09
]]>Wisdom for Gradshttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26476&blogid=142
I just love graduation season and all its hopefulness: The sweet scene on a beautiful spring day of a graduate clad in cap and gown hugging proud loved ones on the street. The "places you'll go" words of encouragement promising big things for grads on greeting cards, books, and diploma-gripping teddy bears near the cash register at the bookstore.]]>Lindsey_22015-06-08T12:57:48ZCindy Sher

The author (right) dancing a hora -- as her mom always advised her to do -- at a dear friend’s wedding.

I just love graduation season and all its hopefulness: The sweet scene on a beautiful spring day of a graduate clad in cap and gown hugging proud loved ones on the street. The "places you'll go" words of encouragement promising big things for grads on greeting cards, books, and diploma-gripping teddy bears near the cash register at the bookstore.

But most of all, I love the wisdom that extraordinary people impart to the graduates.

As we grow older, and move further away -- ahem -- from our graduation year, the lessons keep on coming if we let them. In fact, if we're doing it right, I'd bet most of us are more open to hearing those lessons now than when we were in school.

I'm constantly collecting nuggets of wisdom to guide me on a life's journey filled with joy, light, meaning, and love. I piece together lessons wherever I can find them: from reading, from rabbis, from TED and ELI Talks, and from friends and family members.

In fact, the best piece of wisdom I ever heard came from a commencement address delivered by my cousin Ron, a brilliant Cornell University professor. In his speech, he spoke of his late son Eric's long battle with brain cancer. Despite his health struggles, Eric -- who passed away too young, in his late 30s -- always maintained a bright outlook and sense of humor about life.

With Eric in mind, Ron told the graduates: "The happiest people are not necessarily the people who are lucky enough to avoid problems, but rather the ones whose ability to cope increases at a more rapid rate than their problems do."

Here are a few other lessons I've gathered along the way -- lessons that come in handy no matter when you marched to "Pomp and Circumstance"…

Tell them.

Tell the people in your life what they mean to you. After all, life's short, and we won't always have the chance. Jewish journalist and author Bruce Feiler, who survived cancer, advised this guidance in his book The Council of Dads. Why, he asked, must it take a near-death experience or dramatic roadblock in our lives to take stock of our friends and family? Drop a note or even a text message, or make a lunch or margarita date with the people you care about and tell them why they matter to you.

Be amazed.

As the great Jewish sage Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel said: "Our goal should be to live life in radical amazement. Get up every morning and look at the world in a way that takes nothing for granted. Everything is phenomenal; everything is incredible; never treat life casually. To be spiritual is to be amazed."

What a beautiful way to see the world. There's so much stress, routine, and noise in daily life. Let's try to be more mindful and intentional in how we live -- and be present. Every so often, let's put down our phones, breathe, and observe the beauty that infuses so many moments of our day -- if we just let it.

Own it.

Take up space in the room. I attended a Jewish women's empowerment seminar a few years ago, where we discussed this concept, and then the theme resurfaced in Facebook exec Sheryl Sandberg's Lean In, advice to women on how to succeed in the workplace. Just recently, I watched the number one most viewed TED Talk, delivered by Amy Cuddy, who gives a fascinating lecture on body language and how exhibiting confidence physically can make you feel more confident on the inside. While women, in particular, could heed this lesson, this advice is directed to all people: Who you are and what you have to say matter. Be confident, look confident, and don't apologize for who you are. Own it.

Just dance.

My mother is one of the wisest people I know, and she imparts advice to my sister and me through her super lovable Jewish mom lens. One of her favorite things to tell us is "I hope you dance," referring to a popular Lee Ann Womack song. My mom, who was a ballerina as a young woman, figuratively and literally hopes we dance -- even though her transmission of amazing ballet skills to her progeny didn't quite take. But, no fancy pointe work is needed for the hora, says Mom, and she encourages us never to sit out this traditional Jewish circle dance.

"The better the hora, the better the marriage," she's proclaimed to us often. At my sister's wedding, I remember the guests hoisting my parents on chairs, and my fearless mother clapped to the rhythm of a fast-paced Hava Nagila, feeling zero need to hold onto the arms of the chair. My mom's wish for her girls, as most parents wish for their children, is for us to grab all the joy that life has to offer-and a big part of that joy is a dizzying, sweaty hora.

Got some wisdom to impart to the grads? Email me at cindysher@juf.org and I'll post your advice online.

2015-06-08
]]>Mopey and The Beasthttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26472&blogid=142
I was 13 years old when I had the worst summer of my life. It wasn’t awful because of what happened though; it was awful because of what didn’t happen. And when you’re 13, what doesn’t happen to you is just as worse if not 500 times worse than what does.]]>Lindsey_22015-06-05T14:01:30ZThe story of my worst summer everSteven Chaitman

This story was performed at "Oy! Let Me Tell You …", a live Jewish storytelling event, on June 3, 2015. Check out a live recording of this story
here.

I was 13 years old when I had the worst summer of my life. It wasn't awful because of what happened though; it was awful because of what didn't happen. And when you're 13, what doesn't happen to you is just as worse if not 500 times worse than what does.

It was early July, in the year 2000 and I was looking forward to another summer at Olin Sang Ruby Union Institute, a Jewish summer camp, not a prep school or an insane asylum. It is an amazing place, and it was going to be my third summer there, and my first time going for four weeks and actually feeling like one of the older campers.

All I had to do was bide my time for the first four weeks of the summer in whatever my parents signed me up for. This was usually some "teen" day camp program or "summer school" class so that I wouldn't be home alone all day scarfing goldfish crackers and watching MTV.

To help curb my anticipation, the previous summer I started keeping a journal. I found a random notebook in my drawer; on the cover a picture of the Coca-Cola polar bear flying through the air on a snowboard. I'm not sure what compelled me to journal, or why the tiny Coke bear book. I clearly needed somewhere to dump my pubescent thoughts, and must've thought the Coke bear was the least conspicuous place. That year I began my journal on the Fourth of July and counted the days until camp, usually a little less than two weeks. And as the summer of 2000 approached, I was excited to continue my new tradition.

On July 4, 2000, I detailed the exploits of my afternoon at Deerfield Days, my village's annual Fourth of July carnival and parade. As a 13-year-old, my patience for this charade of an "exciting day of family fun" had worn thin, so I thoroughly and scathingly critiqued this innocent festival. I scoffed at the low-budget rides, uncovered the scams posing as carnival games and smugly reduced the parade to a pointless procession of bagpipes and candy.

After jotting down that we were on our way to my great aunt's Fourth of July party, however, the journal stops. I didn't even finish the day. The next page is dated in the fall.

You're probably thinking that if that summer was the worst of my life, I would've have taken it out on the pages of the Coca-Cola bear journal. Well, I guess it was too agonizing to even rehash privately on paper. So, allow me do my best to fill in the gaps.

A few days later, my parents and I ventured down to the city. I had a check-up scheduled with an orthopedic specialist and because any visit to the city from the suburbs warranted "making a day of it," we would afterward check out the Taste of Chicago. This was a normal doctor's check-up for me: every so many months I went in for x-rays ever since I'd had surgery to get rid of a non-cancerous bone cyst in a high-risk location on my left hip the summer after fourth grade. The cyst had started to grow back a couple times since, and follow-up procedures had not been effective at replacing it and strengthening the weakened bone, which if not improved could shatter or impact my growth. Usually, the update was "looks good, let's keep an eye on it. And you should avoid high-contact sports." It was great for getting out of gym class.

But when the doctor looked at my x-rays this time, it came with the worst news one can ever receive at a hospital -- if one is a naïve, innocently self-centered 13-year-old boy:

You need to have outpatient surgery, and you can't go to camp this summer.

I balled like a baby. Literally. I probably hadn't cried that hard in front of a doctor since emerging from the womb. This was life-shattering news. I would've probably only cried half as much, if at all, had the doctor said, "we need to amputate your leg with a circular saw, but you can go to camp."

As we left the doctor's office, I became a non-verbal pouty toddler. My feelings only snowballed as the reality settled in. I dragged myself through Grant Park, eyes welling up as I imagined my friends making new memories and having the time of their lives without me. Not even the smoky musk of Robinson's ribs and droves of sweaty people overpaying for mediocre street food could cheer me up. I was in mourning. I needed to mourn for the friends I wouldn't see, the pranks I wouldn't pull, the girls I wouldn't crush on.

Noticing how miserable I was, my dad was desperate to turn my spirits around. He promised we would go on a fun vacation after I recovered from the procedure. This was, of course, no consolation. A trip with my parents and 8-year-old brother was never going to replace camp.

In the following days, I wrote a couple camp friends heartbreakingly melodramatic emails that basically read, "I tragically must inform you I will not be at camp this summer. Have so much fun, dear friend, try not to forget me." Then I braved my way through what was either my fourth or fifth surgery. Shortly after, my dad revealed his plan. The four of us would embark on a road trip to -- Cincinnati.

Cincinnati. As if the pangs of a summer lost could be quenched with foot-long chili dogs. Might I have at least been consulted in deciding what kind of vacation would best distract me from self-pity? When I asked why, it turned out my dad's selling point was Kings Island, an amusement park. Well played.

I didn't exactly love amusement parks in the way normal American children did. I liked to study the roller coasters and track them down with a park map, not, you know, ride them. I just liked being immersed in the sounds, sights and smells of uninhibited bliss. At Six Flags Great America, I was the kid riding the carousel and eating funnel cakes. I would crane my neck up at those big looping coasters with a paralyzing uncertainty. Disney World was more my speed -- I had a certain level of confidence that the Happiest Place on Earth would not betray me.

Kings Island was an in-between of sorts. It was, at the time, a Paramount theme park, which meant it had rights to all the Nickelodeon television shows, my childhood jam. I believed that I had aged out of NickToons by this point in my life, but I was by no means an adult.

At the park, the first thing we did was ride a family coaster called Beastie, a diminutive version of the park's famous wooden roller coaster, The Beast. It was pretty fun for a family coaster and it got my adrenaline going. Walking around the Nickelodeon area afterward, I found myself caught in between. I was 13. I wanted to distance myself from the kiddie attractions, but I was still terrified of actual roller coasters. Yet after the Beastie, these two polarizing forces could not coexist much longer.

I think it was my dad that helped me finally break free, surprisingly enough. He is not a roller coaster riding fanatic either. Like most things my brother and I ever asked him to do as kids, he always had a medical excuse. In this case, given his scoliosis, a roller coaster would surely leave him crippled and incapacitated. Who would drive us home then?

But if anything gets to him, its nostalgia, and his fond childhood memories of wooden coasters at Chicago's old Riverview Park were rushing back to him as we came upon the towering stack of timber that comprised The Beast. In its heyday in the '80s, this was the longest, tallest and fastest wooden coaster in the world.

When my dad said he would go on it if I went, I considered this Beast. It did not go upside-down, and it was more than 20 years old. And if my dad was willing to forsake his chiropractic health and actually go with me, I wouldn't be alone. So I went.

After four minutes of huge hills and tight turns through acres of wooded terrain, everything changed. I didn't go on another roller coaster that entire day, but conquering that one beast was enough.

When we got home I spent hours looking at theme parks on the Internet, imagining myself on all the roller coasters at every Six Flags park in the entire country. It was a matter of days before I begged to go to Great America. My dad grudgingly agreed to take me, though he would later infamously complain about the park food and service, write a letter to Six Flags, not get a response, and refuse to ever go back again.

We took my friend Michael, a more seasoned roller coaster rider who used to live up in Gurnee. To break me of my upside-down fear, we decided to ride Demon together, one of the older and tamer looping rides in the park, with only four inversions, according to the Six Flags website.

After some easy rides, Michael and I boarded the roller coaster car and pulled down the overhead restraints. My palms got sweaty as the train rolled out of the station and into the tunnel. No going back. Up the chain lift hill we went toward the first drop; a towering black steel loop waiting for us at the bottom. As we began to fall forward, I distinctly remember screaming, "LET'S DO THIS!"

It was easy. Painless. If only I could've remembered to apply this lesson, to scream those three words at every drop, twist and loop of my teenage years, and beyond. But I can say there wasn't a second on that ride, or while riding The Beast, that I was thinking about not being at camp. Somewhere along the way, I learned something we all still struggle to accept, even as adults, that even the worst of circumstances bring with them new opportunities. And life rumbles on.

But enough of what present day Steven thinks about that summer. I'd like to share with you what 13-year-old Steven had learned after all that.

October 8, 2000

The reason I stopped writing about the countdown to camp was because of the fact that I never went. My leg. I curse the day I found out I had to go in for surgery and miss camp, which I was looking forward to all summer. However, I climbed great heights and had I gone to camp, I wouldn't be the same person I am now.

2015-06-05
]]>What’s Your Wealth?http://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26461&blogid=142
What is wealth? Have you ever really thought about it? Or more importantly, have you ever thought about what wealth looks like for you?]]>Lindsey_22015-06-02T14:44:09ZLiz Kaydanovsky

What is wealth? Have you ever really thought about it? Or more importantly, have you ever thought about what wealth looks like for you?

I think about it all the time. I believe wealth is very ambiguous. It's not an exact science. In fact, it's actually very subjective. There's no right or wrong answer. That's because it encompasses many different things for different people.

These characteristics make wealth very special and personal. It's what I define and make it. It's not society's definition; it's not my parents' definition; it's unique to me.

Take a moment and be mindful. Get in tune with your thoughts and imagination. Ask yourself one very simple, yet complex question: what does a wealthy life look like to you?

If wealth were an equation, what would yours include? Here are some ideas to get you started:

Does your list include all of these? Some? None? The point is that your ideal wealth is yours. Too often, we get lost in the noise of our environment, people's external opinions, and even our internal judgments.

For example, it was embedded in my head from a young age that I really had four choices: accounting, engineering, law or medicine, and that these paths were undeniably more promising than the alternatives, such as becoming a movie director, writer or artist. While this may be true in some forms of measurement (money, prestige, stability), wealth is not always this perfectly measurable thing.

Now more than ever, there's this modern shift of wealth from being a tangible, material destination, to an intangible feeling of meaning and fulfillment.

We all place value on different things. That's what makes us human; that's also what makes us unique. Yet, too often we follow one definition.

We're taught that if we do things right, we will be rewarded accordingly. If we just get straight A's, go to a good college, get a job out of school, and work hard towards our career goals, wealth is this present wrapped up with a pretty little bow waiting for us at the end of the yellow brick road.

And so, we follow this plan: this list of rules and pre-determined life milestones. We stay on pace, keeping track of the notches on our belts. And soon enough we'll get there, this mystical place, right?

Then one day, we wake up. To a small degree, it might feel like waking up from a coma. We live life, and yet we really forget to live at all. Life becomes second nature just like breathing or walking. Today becomes yesterday; tomorrow becomes today; every day passes without intention, like muscle memory.

Isn't it interesting that the future is always picture perfect, and hindsight is always 20/20? But what about now? We tend to neglect the now. Because we just assume the now will eventually amount to said picture-perfect future. But how can it without a clear understanding of what we want, and how we're going to get there?

Sometimes we're too afraid to observe and reflect, because we're scared of what we may discover.

We tend to lose sight of the truth and honesty we once had, a very, very long time ago, as untainted kids. So one day, we finally do wake up and realize that we have these "accomplishments" and these "things" that are supposed to embody wealth, yet there's this uneasy, unfulfilling feeling that has gotten too loud to ignore anymore.

And more clearly than ever, we realize that our attainment of true wealth is directly tied to our feelings of happiness and fulfillment.

Wealth does not always look like a big house with a white-picket fence in perfect suburbia, and yet sometimes it does. Some find wealth in material things or in their job. Some find it in giving back. These are all different definitions, and yet produce the same feeling of wealth for different people.

Your definition of wealth can be ever transforming. Are you the same person as you were five years ago? A year ago? Probably not. And neither is your idea of wealth. Before, wealth could have meant owning that pair of shoes you were dying to have, or maybe it was making six figures at that high-powered job. But now, it may be having a creative outlet, your own business, or maybe a family.

And that is exactly what the wealth equation is: your unique combination of variables. It could be a few to hundreds. However many you'd like.

Let's go back to our fond memories of algebra class. If wealth was an equation it might look something like this: "X + Y + Z = wealth." X might be financial freedom; Y might be family; and Z might be happiness. Or it might be a never-ending equation because the reality is that there are a lot of things that can bring us wealth.

2015-06-02
]]>If a Cookie Could Talkhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26452&blogid=142
If your favorite cookie could talk, what would it say? An Oreo might warn you, “I’m more addicting than cocaine! “]]>Lindsey_22015-06-01T15:36:26ZRon Krit

An oatmeal cookie might plead its case with you, insisting, "I am higher in fiber than the chocolate chip and have less calories."

Or maybe the cookie would ask to be eaten. It will be happy if its purpose is fulfilled.

OK, I have a slight sugar addiction. I try not to cave in to it unless the treat is amazing. My office etiquette is to have one bite of something if a sugar pusher insists, and if it's delicious, I will come back for seconds. Sugar may not be more addicting than cocaine, but it's the downfall of many diets.

Check out this
video of three people giving up sugar for one month. I am not suggesting you try it too, for a month or even a day, but developing a strategy to eat less crap is a key to health. Here are a few suggestions:

- Partner up with a friend
- Schedule a cheat meal each week
- Prepare healthy snacks (cut up fruits a veggies, nuts, seeds..)
- Become a dessert snob

Along with eating less sugar, you should read food labels. Sugar is hidden in many packaged food. Sometimes it's by a different name;
check out this list of sweeteners devised by marketers and scientists. Don't be fooled into thinking you can have an extra serving because the cookie uses agave nectar instead of cane sugar.

As a trainer, it pains me to admit this, but diet is just as important as exercise, sometimes more so. Exercise is essential for health, but you cannot eat whatever you want because you're "active." Running 10 miles a day doesn't mean you can polish off a pint of Ben and Jerry's. Eating all that ice cream might not wreck your six-pack, but sugar is a leading contributor to obesity in children and adults and linked to numerous health issues.

Instead of being a sugar pusher, become a veggie pusher. Carrot sticks won't disappear quickly from the candy bowl, but it will be appreciated, at least by me.

2015-06-01
]]>Interview with former MLBer and pitching expert Jason Hirshhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26444&blogid=142
There are a lot of guys who’ve made it to the Bigs -- that is an accomplishment in its own right -- but only a small percentage of those players have been Jewish. Meet Jason Hirsh. He might not have had the longest MLB career but he played against the likes of Albert Pujols and Barry Bonds. Not the easiest guys to pitch against.]]>Lindsey_22015-05-29T11:32:34ZJeremy Fine

There are a lot of guys who've made it to the Bigs -- that is an accomplishment in its own right -- but only a small percentage of those players have been Jewish. Meet Jason Hirsh. He might not have had the longest MLB career but he played against the likes of Albert Pujols and Barry Bonds. Not the easiest guys to pitch against. Since retiring Jason has stayed close to the game. Here what he is up to:

1) Tell us about yourself.

I'm a former MLB pitcher who now runs my own pitching academy, cleverly named, the Jason Hirsh Pitching Academy in Denver. I was drafted in 2003 by the Houston Astros in the 2nd round out of California Lutheran University, a small division III school in southern California. I became the 4th highest draft pick ever out of a division III school. While in the minor leagues for the Astros I was named the Pitcher of the Year in both 2005 and 2006. 2005 was in AA Corpus Christi of the Texas League and 2006 was in AAA Round Rock of the Pacific Coast League. I became the first person to ever win that title in those two leagues in back to back years.

I made my MLB debut for the Astros in August of 2006 and got my first MLB win a few starts later in Milwaukee. After that season I was traded to the Colorado Rockies for Jason Jennings for the magical season of 2007. I was named the 5th starter out of spring training and was pitching to a pretty good season when I was derailed by injuries. The final injury was a broken leg suffered in August, which prevented me from being able to participate in the 2007 World Series. That next season I strained my rotator cuff in spring training and didn't regain form until September that season.

In 2009 I was traded to the Yankees and sent to AAA Scranton Wilkes-Barre where I regained form and felt like my career was back on track. 2010 was a bounce back season in which I felt like my old self, pitching to some great numbers and helping lead my team to the playoffs. My career came to a screeching halt in August of that season as I tore my rotator cuff and labrum throwing a ball to 1st base effectively ending my season. After major shoulder surgery in 2010, I took 2011 off to rehab and in 2012 played in the Australian Baseball League for the Melbourne Aces.

Finally in 2013 I was playing in Amarillo Texas for the Amarillo Sox of the American Association when I finally decided to hang up my spikes for good and start my own pitching academy. The goal of my academy is to teach kids proper arm care techniques and mechanics to ensure proper development and growth.

2) When did you know you would be able to make it to the Bigs?

I've always wanted to be a professional baseball player. When someone asks kids what they want to be when they grow up, most kids put fireman or policeman or astronaut, I always wrote Major League Baseball Player and my parents have the schoolwork to prove it. It has been my goal my entire life and I worked tirelessly to achieve that goal.

I knew I was one step closer when I got drafted by the Astros but didn't realize how quickly it would come, especially considering all the adversity I went through to get there. When I got called up it was a total shock to me. We were in Salt Lake City playing the Bees (I was with Round Rock) and I was running out to the game mound to throw my warm-ups to start the game. Off to my right I could hear someone warming up in our bullpen which was odd considering I hadn't thrown a pitch yet. It was a reliever who hadn't thrown in a while so I figured he was getting some work in. I completed my first inning unscathed and took my seat in the dugout. The reliever continued to get loose. I ran out for my second inning and threw my warm-ups. After the ball went down the 2nd base my manger (Jackie Moore) began his stroll out to the mound. I was still clueless at this point. He reached the mound, laid his hand out flat, which was the universal sign for "give me the ball," he looked me in the eyes and said "Congratulations son, you're going to the big leagues." All my teammates came to the mound to give me hugs and handshakes and that's when I knew my dreams had finally come true.

3) What was recruitment like as a High Schooler?

I grew a lot in high school -- both physically (5 inches between my sophomore and junior year) and mentally. I was 6'8" 260lbs and throwing 88mph in high school. You would think people would be chomping at the bit to get me into their programs. Unfortunately that wasn't the case. I wanted to play for Arizona State, they wanted me to go to a JuCo and transfer in and I didn't want to deal with transferring as my education was just as important as baseball. Finally one day Cal Lutheran offered me a spot on their team. They said I could pitch from day 1 and that was music to my ears. It's a good thing I had a decent GPA in high school because division III colleges cannot offer athletic scholarships. Once at Cal Lu, I started in the bullpen. Then four games into the season a starter went down with an injury and I stepped in and never stepped back out. The rest is history.

4) What was it like to play in the Majors?

The big leagues is everything you could possibly imagine and more. From fancy hotels, to private jets to big paychecks to bigger stadiums, tens of thousands of fans and incredible pressures. There is a reason why people spend a lifetime trying to get there.

5) Who was the best player you played with and against?

I played with a lot of great players but the ones I remember the most are great teammates. I don't want to single out an individual because there were many people who had an impact on my career and my life. Likewise I played against a lot of great players from Albert Pujols to Barry Bonds to Gregg Maddux and Randy Johnson. Granted most of the greats I played against were in their twilight years, there were quite a few who continue to make an impact in the big leagues and are now the superstars.

6) Any regrets?

My only regret is not being able to stay healthy. I really liked to interact with fans and inspire kids and I felt like if I had stayed healthy I would have had a much bigger platform from which to achieve those goals. Other than that, I have no regrets.

7) What was your Jewish upbringing like?

I'm a holiday Jew, though probably the most practicing of all my family members. I'm extremely proud of my Jewish heritage and the legacy that I was able to help carry on. When I was a kid I mostly remember Hanukkah and as I got older we I participated in Yom Kippur services. It wasn't until I got to high school at St. Francis High School (a Catholic school) that I really learned about my faith. I took an intro to religion class which might as well have been called Jewish History where I probably learned more about my faith than if I had gone to another school. I also learned about my faith at Cal Lu (a Lutheran school) where I also took another intro to religion class which concentrated on Jewish history. Without either of these schools I definitely wouldn't have the love and appreciation I do today of my culture and heritage. On a side note my first catcher in the big leagues was a fellow Jew named Brad Ausmus (current manager for the Detroit Tigers). We became just the 2nd Jewish Pitching/Catcher battery in MLB history behind Sandy Koufax and Norm Sherry.

8) Koufax or Greenberg?

I'm a pitcher so of course I'm going side with Koufax. Plus I grew up in Los Angeles where I was a huge Dodger fan. I did learn quite a bit about Hank Greenberg from an amazing documentary I was fortunate enough to see called "Jews In Baseball". On a side note, my agent Arn Tellum was featured in that documentary which was cool for me to see. I love history, especially World War II history and the Greenberg's story was something that definitely peaked my interest.

9) What are you doing these days?

As I mentioned earlier, I have a Pitching Academy in Denver Colorado where I teach kids of all ages the art of Pitching and Arm Care. I'm also married to my beautiful wife Pamela whom I met in college and we have two boys (Brady, 5, Hudson, 3). If I'm not in the batting cage or at home with my boys you can probably find me wading in one of the many beautiful rivers in Colorado, fly fishing for trout (inspired in part by a book called "Fly Fishing: A Spiritual Practice"). Thank you to Jason for taking the time to answer our questions. Great story and checkout his academy
www.hirshacademy.com

2015-05-29
]]>What’s with all the “J” Names?http://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26434&blogid=142
Anyone making a list of Jewish names, or choosing one for a child, has to be struck by how many start with “J.”]]>Lindsey_22015-05-28T16:43:08ZPaul Wieder

Anyone making a list of Jewish names, or choosing one for a child, has to be struck by how many start with "J."

This is not an accident. One of the many names for God is spelled, in Hebrew, with the two letters "yood" and "hey."
Together, they sound like the last syllable of "hallelujah." (Which makes sense, since that word means "praise God.")

The "yood" -- the 10th letter of the Hebrew alphabet -- is transliterated into the letter "I," the ninth letter in our familiar alphabet. And as any Indiana Jones fan can tell you, "J" began as a capital form of "i."
Later, "J" took on its own pronunciation.

So all the "J" names actually start with an "I"… originally, a "yood." Here are some of the more well-known J names (alphabetized) followed by their meanings, their original Hebrew pronunciations, and more modern forms the name has taken… which is where your name might have ended up in the list. Most female names of this type are versions of male source-names; the ones that aren't usually start with a "Y" in English, like "Yael" and "Yaffa."

While there are J-ified versions of these names, you mostly hear them in Hebrew or in Israel: Yael, Yafit, Yair, Yaron, Yechezkel, Yedidah, Yehudit, Yerucham, Yigal, Yirachmiel, Yishai(ah), Yisachar, Yoav, Yoel, Yocheved, and Yuval. All starting with a "yood."

Some "yood" names retain the "I," however: Isaac, Ilana, Iris, Isabel (from the Biblical name Elizabeth, even if it sounds like "Jezebel"), Isaiah, Itamar… Ian and Ivan (from John)… and of course Israel itself.

Why "I" in these cases? It has to do with the second letter, after the "yood." If the second letter is a vowel, the yood becomes a "J"; "Ya'acov" becomes "Jacob." If the second letter is a consonant, the "yood" has to stay a vowel; "Yitzchak" becomes "Isaac"… not the unpronounceable "Jsaac."

Probably the most prominent city names that start with "J" in English but "yood" in Hebrew are, of course, in Israel (which itself starts with a "yood" in Hebrew:):

But still, quite a few "J" names do come from Hebrew, even from the Torah. And now you know why.

2015-05-28
]]>We Should Get To Know Each Otherhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26427&blogid=142
Growing up I had a split personality. On the one hand, I loved smelling the tadlikos and spinaki that my great aunts would busily prepare in the kitchen during any family gathering. I loved hearing the stories about Macedonia, the “old country,” that my grandfather and older relatives would tell around the dinner table.]]>Lindsey_22015-05-27T16:35:36ZSarah Aroeste

Growing up I had a split personality. On the one hand, I loved smelling the
tadlikos
and
spinaki
that my great aunts would busily prepare in the kitchen during any family gathering. I loved hearing the stories about Macedonia, the "old country," that my grandfather and older relatives would tell around the dinner table. I loved the special "Non Komo Muestro Dio" (or Ein Keloheinu to most of you) that we sang for Shabbat. But on the other hand, I didn't like that I looked so different from many of my other Jewish friends, that I didn't know most of the funny Yiddish words they tossed around so easily, and that I still can't tell the difference between
kreplach
and
kashka. When I was younger, I didn't know how to address my Sephardic culture outside of my family--it's not something kids talk about with each other, especially if you're the only one who shares your customs. I felt different, and sometimes lonely.

Wouldn't it be amazing if we all grew up in communities where these differences are embraced but also
known
about? As I got older, I became increasingly aware that none of my friends had ever even heard of the word "Ladino" before. Did you know that in Israel, the government has placed so much value in the preservation of this critical aspect of Sephardic culture that they have set up an entire institute, "The Ladino Authority," and appointed a former
president
of the State of Israel, Yitzhak Navon, to lead it. If only Jewish kids in America were even taught what
Ladino
is! A girl like me may not have felt so "other" as a child.

We all come from families with amazing stories, in a country filled with immigrants. My story likely is not so different from yours reading this. My grandfather's family came to America escaping war. In his case, it was the Balkan Wars in 1911. The Balkans were home to a large population of Sephardic Jews who had found safety in the Ottoman Empire after the expulsion from Spain in 1492. Jews had lived in the region peacefully for over 400 years, but when the Ottoman Empire fell, my family in Monastir (what was then upper Greece, lower Yugoslavia) decided it was time to leave. They came to America with nothing, and they quickly wanted to find success in their new country. They did not teach their children many of the customs from the old country, save for a few family recipes and songs. Sadly, Ladino, the first language of my grandfather, and the beautiful pan-Mediterranean Sephardic language based in Castilian Spanish, did not get passed down.

But luckily I grew up with the knowledge that our family history was precious and worth understanding. This picture below, of a synagogue in Thessaloniki, Greece that my relatives built in 1923, has stood for a symbol to me of why I need to share my story.

Many people are not aware that Greece was the hardest hit country, in terms of
percentage
of Jews exterminated, than any other country during WWII. Greece? Yes, Greece. Eighty seven percent of the Jewish population, mostly all Sephardic, was murdered, higher than in any other country. While Thessaloniki was obliterated during the war, this one synagogue was left intact, as the Nazis used it as a Red Cross Shelter. It stayed standing. We are still standing. While the numbers of Sephardic populations are small, our stories are big and impactful. And I owe it to all my relatives before me who survived the Inquisition, and subsequent wars, to keep my Sephardic culture alive.

Sephardic culture is Jewish culture. Just because I come from Sephardic ancestry doesn't make me "other." Whether you eat gefilte fish or
huevos haminados
during Passover, we're all part of a larger Jewish history. I want to know your family's stories from Russia, or Vilnius, or Vienna. And I hope that you will want to hear about mine from Greece, or Turkey or Serbia. We should get to know each other better; we're all part of the same Jewish family.

Sarah Aroeste is a contemporary Ladino singer and composer living in Massachusetts. (www.saraharoeste.com). She will be speaking on "Sephardic Culture is Jewish Culture: Why Ladino Matters" on June 18th at WTTW11 in Chicago as part of the latest production of
ELI Talks. Get your tickets to see her and five other speakers present their TED-style "inspired Jewish ideas" on new Jewish culture
here.

2015-05-27
]]>'Lonely Starbucks Lovers'http://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26419&blogid=142
For months my two daughters have been getting on my back because I was convinced that Taylor Swift’s song “Blank Space” contained the lyrics, “All the lonely Starbucks lovers.”]]>Lindsey_22015-05-26T12:00:14ZAdmitting when you're wrongNeil Harris

I'm in a great mood right now. I feel vindicated, sane, and ready to conquer the world.

For months my two daughters have been getting on my back because I was convinced that Taylor Swift's song "Blank Space" contained the lyrics, "All the lonely Starbucks lovers."

To hear from an 8 and a 12-year-old that I'm wrong isn't so bad, except that they weren't even able to tell me what they thought the line was in the song. I'm happy to honestly admit when I'm incorrect about something, but I felt that this had to be the lyric because I, too, am a Starbucks lover. While I couldn't ever "Shake It Off," I've been a drinker of Starbucks since 1992. I related to this line.

On Monday night, after having great Shabbat and two inspiring days of Shavuot, I learned something that has caused a total paradigm shift in how I relate to the world and those around me. I found out that I wasn't alone. I wasn't crazy. I was wrong, but not alone. It seems that Talyor Swift's mother also thought the lyric was, "All the lonely Starbucks lovers."

Being the only one wrong stinks, but it turns out that thousands have also been in the "Starbucks" camp. I guess, like myself, they never bothered to look up the lyrics (an action that has become outdated since the digital music era). I wasn't very upset, since I was comforted in knowing that others also heard what I thought I had heard. When we are not the only ones wrong, it's always easier to digest.

For the record, the lyric is, "Got a long list of ex-lovers."

When it comes to hearing things, I'm a bit subjective. It's not selective hearing (though my wife thinks it is), but I hear things in relation to what I can connect with. One of my teachers, Rabbi Moshe Weinberger, once explained that we all fall victim to hearing what we want to hear. He even quoted a popular folk rock song from his youth, "Still, a man hears what he wanted to hear and disregards the rest."

Again, being wrong stinks, but for me there is a sliver of joy in it. When I do find out that I'm wrong and I have to admit it, there's a choice I have to make. I can either say, "Ok, I'm wrong, but it was an easy mistake," or admit my mistake and use it as a lesson to remind myself that I don't always know as much as I think I do.

Tonight when I tell my daughters the "good news," I'm going to try to do so in a way that will let them see that it's OK to be wrong.

2015-05-26
]]>Birthright Israel Survival Guidehttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26415&blogid=142
‘Tis the season for Taglit-Birthright Israel trips. For those of you who were accepted on the Birthright summer program, you are about to have one of the most incredible experiences of your life. Soon you’ll be sharing your camel-riding, Masada-climbing, Dead Sea-floating photos all over Facebook.]]>Lindsey_22015-05-22T15:57:36ZTips to prepare you for BirthrightCarly Gerber

'Tis the season for Taglit-Birthright Israel trips. For those of you who were accepted on the Birthright summer program, you are about to have one of the most incredible experiences of your life. Soon you'll be sharing your camel-riding, Masada-climbing, Dead Sea-floating photos all over Facebook.

To those of you who've already gone, you know the high you have while in Israel and the low you feel when you're no longer surrounded by the 50 or so people who became your best friends in just a few days.

I definitely felt prepared before I went to Israel because of the suggested packing list from my trip organizer. But, now that I've gone through the incredible experience that is Birthright, I can share, with expert knowledge, how to best prepare for this trip you'll never want to come home from. Yes, Birthright is that amazing.

So, I've provided you with a short list of suggestions and items you most definitely want to carry with you during your travels through the Promised Land.

Less is more
Men don't usually have an issue with over packing, so this tip is really for my ladies. Don't pack five pairs of leggings, three pairs of jeans, and two pairs of heels for the two nights you go out. I survived on, wait for it, one pair of leggings, one pair of jeans, and I didn't even bring heels. The people you meet on your trip become your best friends, and they don't care about how you look. They care only about the person you are. Focus less on your outfits and more on the unforgettable experiences you'll be having.

Be a walking Walgreens
Do pack cough drops, Advil, bandages, sunblock, and allergy medicine. Since your days are jam packed with unforgettable activities and nights consisting of four hours of sleep on average, it doesn't hurt to be prepared in case you start feeling under the weather. In addition, drink an excessive amount of water all day, every day because you don't want all of the amazing hiking, sight-seeing and socializing to catch up to you.

Bring out your inner photographer
I took a ton of photos and am really happy I did. I packed a journal thinking I would have time at the end of each day to write about the activities I did and the funny and memorable moments. I was completely wrong. You have basically no time to yourself, so take plenty of photos so you can look back and remember all of the amazing moments you had and people you met.

It's all about the Benjamins … or shekels
There are Birthright programs that suggest bringing $200 to $300 that you later exchange for Israeli currency. You could very likely spend more than that. I did. Your suitcase will start overflowing with gifts for your family, like chamsah necklaces for your bubbe and mom; a yarmulke of your dad's alma mater; many shot glasses for friends and siblings; and, of course, an Israel Defense Forces sweatshirt, t-shirt and muscle tee.

Finally, don't forget to be open to every experience your trip has to offer and relish every moment because your time in Israel days will go by too fast.

There was a time when I could not stomach potato salad. Not one bit. I could not fathom cold, mayonnaise-drenched potatoes being appealing to me.

That all changed one day when I was working in a super busy cafeteria that serviced 3,000 people a day and it just so happened to be picnic season. During this season we made batches upon batches of potato salad. Huge 5-gallon vats of potato salad would disappear in a day's time. I even packaged it up and sold the stuff by the pound as most grocery stores did.

Watching and serving the salad all day long made it even more unappealing to me.

But one day, I was the only chef manager in the kitchen and one of my favorite cooks Teresa came looking for me to taste the batch of potato salad.

She waved her head, dunked a plastic spoon into the gooey mixture and said, "Here!" I had a feeling she was not going to take no for an answer. I had to taste it. It would be wrong and a bad example if I didn't, right? So I sucked it up and tasted it …Teresa watched me with her usual cheery smile on her face. And then the unbelievable happened.

I accidentally breathed. You see, I was holding my breath hoping to not taste anything … I know, I know and I call myself a chef! But people, I have a wretchedly evil gag reflex!

When I breathed, I was surprised to find that what was being passed around in my mouth was surprisingly delicious. It was creamy, but not in the gross way I had imagined. It had all the texture and mouth feel that I expected it to have… but those textures were not gross at all! They were delectable.

"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM es muy delicioso, Teresa," I said. She smiled, thanked me and began placing them in huge Tupperware containers to be used later on that day. And I continued eating the salad.

It was not all creamy; there was some crunch to it and even some tanginess. And it was just what this girl's appetite wanted. Not needed, wanted. No one actually NEEDS potato salad, let's be honest.

The next day, I stood by Teresa and watched her make it. Such simple ingredients came together to make the ultimate classic potato salad. She made it with such knowing hands and such precision, never measuring anything but consistently getting the same result. That, ladies and gents, is a pro.

And so I pass on her delicious recipe to you. I promise THIS will be the only recipe for potato salad you will ever need! I brought this over to a BBQ I attended and it was gobbled up instantly.

I will say; I prefer making it the night before and letting the flavors marry a bit. It's a lot yummier that way.

1. First wash up your potatoes. I like to use classic small red potatoes. Cut them up in quarters if they are small, or in eights if they are the larger ones.

2. Place them in a pot with a few pinches of salt and bring to a boil.

3. While you are at it, grab some eggs and hard boil them. I got a nifty tutorial for you on how to make the easiest and most perfect hard boiled eggs every time.

4. While that's working for you, finely dice some celery.

5. When your potatoes are juuuuuust fork tender, dump them into a colander and let them cool. In fact you can always do this the night before as well.

6. Place the potatoes in a bowl and crumble up your eggs right on top of there. I just mushed the eggs with my hand, but feel free to do this with your fork if you would like.

7. Chop up a bunch of scallions (about ¾ of a cup) ... I like it really scalliony because I feel it really brings out the flavor in the potatoes. Add the scallions to the heap as well.

8. Now add ¾ cup of sour cream, ¾ cup of mayo, ¼ cup of dijon mustard and salt and pepper. (If you're forgoing the sour cream for a kosher BBQ, add a squeeze of lemon for some tanginess.) Mix everything with a big spatula or your hands. I prefer to use my hands because you get the "dressing" distributed a bit more evenly this way. Check for seasonings and see if you need it zestier, saltier or if it's just right!

9. Garnish with scallions and enjoy!

2015-05-21
]]>Pickled Okra Memorieshttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26398&blogid=142
My favorite thing about food, other than how most of it tastes amazing, is how it’s bonded to memory. What’s your favorite thing to eat? Think about that food right now. Where are you? You’re probably far, far away.]]>Lindsey_22015-05-20T12:50:18ZJeremy Owens

My favorite thing about food, other than how most of it tastes amazing, is how it's bonded to memory. What's your favorite thing to eat? Think about that food right now. Where are you? You're probably far, far away. Maybe you're a kid. Whenever it is, chances are you're happy. I love the instant time-traveling aspect of food memories. It's magical.

One of my most favorite foods is pickled okra. I wish I were surrounded by it this very moment. Okra is maybe a weird food to talk about if you're not from the South, but stay with me.

Whenever I think of pickled okra I am instantly seven years old and I'm at the salad bar of a restaurant in my hometown with my mom. She used to sneak me extra pieces of okra from the salad bar because she knew I loved it. Those little okra presents felt like our little secret.

When I think of those trips to the salad bar, I instantly see a giant canister of pickled okra and so clearly that I can almost reach out and touch it. Just about every time I eat pickled okra I have this little fragment of a memory. When the memory pops up I am filled with warm happy thoughts. I am filled with love, love for my Mom and love for pickled okra.

I was at a fancy specialty grocery store recently and happened upon a selection of pickled okra. I know -- can you believe it? How random. There was more than one brand and several different flavors. I didn't even have to taste the okra; I was instantly seven and standing in front of that same old salad bar in my hometown with my mom. I love that feeling and I adore that weird little flash back.

I don't run across pickled okra very often these days, but I decided that maybe I should start making it at home so I can have my little okra memories whenever I want. How revolutionary! Until I saw the okra at the store it never even occurred to me that it could be anywhere other than that salad bar from long ago. It's time to fix that. Maybe you're not in love with okra -- maybe it's chocolate cake or humus or homemade ice cream. It can be any number of things. I think you should find a recipe for your favorite food and make it tonight. You won't be disappointed I promise.

In a medium saucepan, bring 4 cups water to a boil, reduce the heat so the water simmers and add the garlic. Cook for 5 minutes. Add the vinegar and salt, raise the heat and bring to a boil, stirring until the salt dissolves. Remove from the heat.

In 2 clear 1-quart jars, place a few sprigs of dill. Divide the seeds and peppercorns between the jars. Using tongs, remove the garlic from the brine and place 5 cloves in each jar. Then pack the jars full of cucumbers, carrots, scallions or green beans, cauliflower and chiles. You want them to be tightly stuffed.

Bring the brine back to a boil, pour it over the vegetables to cover completely, let cool, then cover and refrigerate. The pickles will taste good in just a few hours, better after a couple of days. And they'll keep for about 3 months.

2015-05-20
]]>Grading the Bullshttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26387&blogid=142
This is becoming a familiar feeling -- the Bulls’ season cut short by LeBron James.]]>Lindsey_22015-05-19T12:46:53ZEric Burgher

This is becoming a familiar feeling -- the Bulls' season cut short by LeBron James.

I've thought about this a lot over the last week or so once I saw the writing on the wall that this team just didn't have what it would take to get past James and company, yet again.

As much as we love the Bulls and as much as they have improved the roster -- probably the best roster they've had in the Tom Thibodeau era -- they never found an identity this season. They were never able to identify a true leader on the court, and they struggled pairing Thibodeau's defensive mind-set with a focus on making the Bulls a better offensive team.

Their skill on the roster and on the bench got them as far as they could possibly go, but it was clear to me that this team was floating more often than not. Not only did they struggle to score at times, but they looked completely lost on offense for entire quarters.

Here are my grades for each player this season. It will be interesting to see which, if any, pieces get moved around in the off-season.

Pau Gasol --
Gasol was the Bulls' most consistent player this season, leading the league in double-doubles and earning his first appearance as an All-Star starter. Once seen as an off-season consolation prize in the Carmelo Anthony sweepstakes, Gasol gave the Bulls more than anyone expected. He was great in the pick-and-roll game and was the low-post scorer the Bulls have been looking for. His defensive lapses were often made up for by his shot-blocking ability. Although the veteran missed time when it really mattered in the playoffs, he was healthy for nearly the entire regular season. --
A

Mike Dunleavy --
I really liked what I saw from Dunleavy this season. He gave the Bulls solid wing minutes, played good defense and hit threes coming off of screens as well as spotting up. Injury kept him out about 20 games this year, but he was a good veteran presence who wasn't afraid to play a little nasty on a team that lacked toughness at times. I would have liked to see him used more but that wasn't his fault. He may be the odd man out with his contract up after this season, but I think he would be a good asset to have if they can figure out a way to get him back. --
B

Joakim Noah --
This year's Joakim Noah was not the Joakim Noah we've been accustomed to seeing. Maybe it was injuries, maybe it was difficulty fitting into the offense or with Pau Gasol, but Noah never really found his groove this season. His production dropped in every statistical category and just didn't have the emotional flair he had when he was All-NBA First Team last season. --
C-

Jimmy Butler --
The NBA's Most Improved Player established himself this season as one of the league's best two-way players. He averaged 20 points and attempted a team best seven free throws per game. Butler bet on himself turning down the Bulls' pre-season contract offer and it looks like it is going to pay off. -- A

Derrick Rose --
It was unclear at the start of the season which Derrick Rose we would see, if we would see him at all. Despite missing some time with a meniscus injury, Rose certainly showed signs of his former self. Prior to the injury he depended too heavily on the three-point shot (and was 28 percent from long-range), but in the second half of the season began to attack the basket again and played much more efficiently. Playing 51 regular season games and every game of the playoffs earns Rose a good grade alone for this season, but his inconsistent shooting and knack for turning the ball over drops him a bit. --
B+

Taj Gibson --
I feel like I've been saying every year is going to be Gibson's break out year, but this might be his ceiling. After getting rid of Carlos Boozer, the starting power forward position was supposed to be Gibson's, but signing Pau Gasol and bringing over Nikola Mirotic changed that and Gibson struggled to find his role on this team. He looks to be the Bulls' most attractive trade bait this off-season as the odd man out in a crowded front court. --
C

Nikola Miroti --
It was a hot and cold year for the rookie, but I loved the flashes that I saw from Mirotic. His ability as a big man to hit threes, put the ball on the floor and also find the open man put him at the center of some Rooke of the Year talk at points this season. He still has a ways to go on defense, but he definitely has potential to be a very good sixth man on this team for the foreseeable future. Once his confidence grows and he develops more of a low-post game, he can be a very, very dangerous player. --
B

Aaron Brooks --
In the long line of great off-season point guard pick-ups, Brooks filled the bill. His often stellar scoring ability carried the Bulls a lot of the time when Rose or Hinrich were out. He got into the lane, hit impossible shots and shot well from (and sometimes two feet behind) the three-point line. But Brooks disappeared completely in the playoffs, showing very little ability to score the way he did in the regular season in limited minutes. --
B-

Tony Snell -- Snell struggled to get into the rotation consistently, but he showed the potential to be the Bulls' next hidden draft find. When he did find his way on the floor, he showed he can hit from long range and also displayed a smooth, quick drive game. With Dunleavy's status in question next year, Snell may be ready to emerge as a potential starting 2 or 3 next to Jimmy Butler. --
C+

Kirk Hinrich --
Captain Kirk has always been someone I have defended when others didn't want to see him on the floor, but he made it awfully difficult to be in his corner even for me this season. Hinrich was always a favorite of Tom Thibodeau so he ended up in games even when he maybe shouldn't have been. He lost a few steps on defense, where he had been reliable in the past. -- D

We did not see much from E'Twaun Moore, Doug McDermott, Nazr Mohammed or Cameron Bairstow this season, but with the need to clear some cap space, we could see more of the first two next year and possibly not see the latter two on the roster at all.

I think it's unlikely that Thibodeau returns next year, and I'm guessing we'll see a few roster changes, but I don't know how much better the Bulls can be with the roster structured the way it is now. With Jimmy Butler likely to receive a max deal and Derrick Rose's max contract still on the books, we'll only see minor moves unless a trade is made.

It should be an exciting offseason full of speculation, but it appears for now that any improvement the Bulls make will have to come from within.

2015-05-19
]]>What your selfie stick says about youhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26383&blogid=142
After all this time, I’m sure you’re wondering: When will one of the writers at Oy!Chicago tackle the “selfie stick?”]]>Lindsey_22015-05-18T14:08:58ZLia Lehrer

After all this time, I'm sure you're wondering:
When will one of the writers at Oy!Chicago tackle the "selfie stick?"

Well, friends, today is your lucky day.

Last week, my fiancé and I got back from a wonderful 12-day trip to Europe, visiting cities in England, Belgium and Holland. We loved seeing the sights, experiencing the culture, and indulging in so, so many waffles.

But there was one aspect of our trip that seemed to -- well -- stick out.

Selfie stick in St. James's Park in London

Selfie stick in St. James's Park in London

Selfie stick near Kensington Gardens

Presenting the top five things your selfie stick says about you:

1. I am a tourist -- not that there's anything wrong with that, but I'm definitely, surely not going to even attempt to blend in with my surroundings

2. I love architecture, but I think that famous buildings like Buckingham Palace, the Taj Mahal, the Egyptian pyramids, and so many others would look better if my face were in front of it.

3. I'm not interested in talking to strangers -- even the nice, friendly ones who would gladly take my photo and then in exchange I'd take their photo, and then we'd talk about where we're from and think, wow, this little world really ain't so bad.

4. Seriously, I am so uninterested in asking a stranger for help that I would rather carry a metal stick around with me all day.

5. I truly believe that my metal stick and my arm are more capable than you to take this picture.

Although, with all of the European rain, if only we could figure out a way harvest that selfie stick technology and put it onto an umbrella -- then the tourists would really have it made.

And for the record, Adam and I somehow managed to get awesome selfies anyway, sans selfie stick.

2015-05-18
]]>Can a Personal Worst Be a Personal Best?http://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26373&blogid=142
Yesterday my brother stuck his head through my window in the Hebrew school carpool line and asked if I’m ready to quit. Like the rest of my family, Jeff doesn’t approve of my marathon habit, and while he hasn’t yet staged a full-blown intervention, he asked me the same question after my first one. And second. And third.]]>Lindsey_22015-05-15T12:00:05ZRunning the 2015 Kenosha MarathonDana Rhodes

Yesterday my brother stuck his head through my window in the Hebrew school carpool line and asked if I'm ready to quit. Like the rest of my family, Jeff doesn't approve of my marathon habit, and while he hasn't yet staged a full-blown intervention, he asked me the same question after my first one. And second. And third.

I get it. I used to think people who ran marathons were insane. As recently as last Tuesday, I hated marathons. I approached them with dread. I suffered mentally for 26.2 miles and it was pure stubbornness that kept me going. I even announced my retirement on Facebook -- while still in an active state of bonk -- last October after completing Chicago with a 4:33 personal record.

Granted, I registered for Kenosha the following week, but not because of adrenaline, masochism, or the need to shave three more minutes off my time. But because I realize I have so much left to learn. With that, I set my next goal.
Figure out how to enjoy a marathon.

My original vision entailed a Swiss cheese costume, something so absurdly out of character that it would be a constant reminder not to take myself, the run, or life too seriously. While I can get pretty literal with my symbolism when it comes to holes and imperfection, I couldn't quite figure out the logistics of foam. So, over time, my vision morphed into a glittery, yellow tutu I made myself and a Swiss cheese bow tie. I debated to the very last second whether I'd have the guts to actually wear it.

The Tuesday before the race, I attended my first Jewish meditation sit with Rabbi Jordan Bendat-Appell at the Center for Jewish Mindfulness at Orot (www.orotcenter.org), who talked about netzach -- endurance.

He said, "For this week, set the intention to endure -- to return with energy and confidence, over and over to your intentions, to that which is important. And, notice if this kind of persistence leads to unnecessary hardening. When this happens try to add a gentle softening, a dose of chesed, lovingkindness."

I haven't decided if it's the ultimate cliché, or ridiculously timely, but this shifted my mindset. I was no longer dreading a marathon. I was curious if I could experience it as a 26.2 mile meditation -- with the intent to feel blessed that I could run long distances, to enjoy the nature and sense of community, to contemplate
netzach
rather than negativity, and to be carried along by the energy of the universe.

I set out to run a 10:10 pace in my glittery yellow tutu and a cheesehead bowtie. 10:10 because it's symmetrical and slow; the tutu and bowtie as reminders not take myself too seriously.

In purple Sharpie, I wrote the word chesed (lovingkindness) on my right hand and netzach (endurance) on my left hand.

So was it 26.2 miles of peaceful bliss? Hardly. My legs were heavy from the start. By mile 1, I was hot; at mile 7, I was a few gulps of air away from a full-blown panic attack; at mile 10, I was -- in the words of my dear friend Brian -- six seconds away from shitting in my pants; and at mile 13, I considered dropping out. By mile 16, I'd swallowed enough air to inflate a large inner-tube, and a gigantic bubble formed in my chest. The downward pressure made me nauseous, the upward pressure constricted my breathing, and running became damn near impossible.

But I also had meditative moments and during those moments everything shifted. I heard the sound of the pack, feet hitting pavement, collective inhaling and exhaling, as though the marathon itself was alive and pulsing. Sometimes I looked down at my yellow tutu and smiled in spite of myself. I loved my damn tutu. "Hello, Yellow Tutu Woman," said someone. Sometimes I thought of my daughter Emma who would be starring as Maria in The Sound of Music that night and I borrowed from her brave. On one out-and-back, I passed half a dozen participants in wheelchairs, one after another, many with giant grins, all being being pushed by runners -- and I borrowed from their brave. Sometimes I looked at the Hebrew words in purple Sharpie on the back of my hands, and silenced the voice that was saying, Your time sucks and listened to the voice that was saying, Run your own race, Dana. Don't stop.

That's when I came to terms with everything. On any random spring morning, I'd be all in if someone said, "Want to go for a walk?" To my surprise, Kenosha is far more than a bunch of outlet malls off of I-94. Think miles of lakeshore including a lighthouse, quaint shops, beautiful homes, subtle rolling hills, green fields, and quiet. Everything I'd want in a Saturday morning nature walk, with the added bonus of an occasional stranger offering me a banana and saying, "You're awesome" as I stroll on by. I decided to enjoy that stroll from mile 17ish to the finish and unlike Chicago, there were stretches where there wasn't a soul in sight. I loved it.

So no, my dear brother, I am not quitting. Thanks to netzach (and my friends), I didn't quit at mile 13. And thanks to chesed (and my friends), I enjoyed it. It was 72 minutes slower and 72 times better. I've already registered for Kenosha 2016, which gives me plenty of time to practice breathing with my mouth closed. And this time I learned the following: Sometimes conventional measures of success, like a marathon finishing time (or hitting every note in
The Sound of Music) are secondary. Or even inconsequential. And it takes a yellow tutu to remind you of that.

It takes truly dedicated friends to wake up at 4 a.m. on a Saturday morning, schlep you across the state line to run excessive distances, pop up at various points (4.5, 13, 18, 22 and 26) across bumblefuck (albeit beautiful) southern Wisconsin for five-plus (+++) hours, and haul your stinky, nauseous ass back home. And offer to do it again next year. Thanks, Sarah and Pat.

2015-05-15
]]>Arrive at Their Placehttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26369&blogid=142
Relationships are the backbone of our emotional health, yet they are also the source of our emotional aches. So often the people we love and find comfort in are the cause for our distress, and it usually comes from a communication we had with them that went awry.]]>Lindsey_22015-05-14T13:07:56ZThe advantages of vantage points in relationshipsJoshua Marder

Relationships are the backbone of our emotional health, yet they are also the source of our emotional aches. So often the people we love and find comfort in are the cause for our distress, and it usually comes from a communication we had with them that went awry.

Wouldn't it be nice to just feel a strong bond and closeness constantly with everyone we're near to? Would you think this blog post is the start of a cheesy fake commercial if I told you that you can?

Let's take a look at a rather typical argument between a young couple that had a moment of conflict when they rendezvoused for lunch and he arrived late:

She says, "We said we'd meet for lunch at noon. It's almost 12:30! You're almost a half hour late."

He says, "I'm sorry for being late, and it's only 12:19. I assumed you realized it was going to be hard for me to get out to the suburbs from the city on a weekday from work."

She responds, "Well, if you couldn't come here on time, than you should've told me so I wouldn't have messed up my whole day!"

He responds, "Fine! Then I just won't even try to come out here to meet you next time!"

She replies, "I'm sorry for yelling. I just wish you wouldn't make promises you can't keep. It really messes up my schedule!"

And he replies, "I'm leaving!"

What went wrong here? Who messed up? Was it his fault for arriving late? Was it her fault for not forgiving or being appreciative that he made the effort to get there? Could either of them have said something to the other that could've fixed the situation?

She could've been more accepting about his tardiness, and he could've accepted her apology and offered to try to be more on time next time, but I don't think they are capable, not yet.

Let's try to understand what's really happening between them. He arrived late. What does that really mean to her? Well, it might feel as if he doesn't care about her or prioritize her in his busy life. In couples therapy, we call that a feeling of abandonment. Because she appraises his behavior that way, she's feeling really hurt and sad. And it's coming out at him as anger.

On the other side, he's experiencing her anger. He doesn't have a clue about her interpretation of his behavior and the profound sadness it evokes. It was hard for him to take the time off work to meet for lunch, and all he sees in response is that she's very upset with him. His appraisal of her criticism and anger is that he messed up and he can't ever seem to get it right. In therapeutic terms, we would say he's feeling unappreciated, even unloved. His feelings cause him to respond by pulling away from her. She then appraises his distancing to mean she's even less important and a priority to him. The abandonment feelings get stronger, the anger comes out harsher, and the nasty cycle spirals onward.

All relationships with our loved ones -- parents, friends, spouses, and children -- have patterns, and sometimes these patterns can get ugly. How can they see the depth of what's really going on underneath the external behaviors that are so triggering?

Hillel, a great sage of the Talmud almost 2,000 years ago, addressed this exact topic. He said, "Do not judge your friend until you have arrived at his place." Hillel is addressing the question, "What goes wrong in relationships?" And he answers, "You are 'judging' it from the wrong vantage point!" If you want to truly appraise the situation, you must look at it from the other person's perspective. Once you can see it from their paradigm, then you can truly judge the situation properly.

If he would step into her place and view the situation from her vantage point before making a judgment, he would see how hurt she is feeling from his late arrival. When he see how much it impacts her, he can better address those feelings and also understand why she's so upset. And if she would step into his place before making any judgment, she would see how important it is to him that she recognizes his efforts to meet her there. She would see how important it is to him to feel her appreciation and love for his effort and understand why he's distancing because of them.

We can truly take to heart the advice of Hillel and not judge our loved ones until we have fully arrived and put ourselves in their place. Then, from that vantage point, with the understanding of what's really happening, we can stay close to the ones we love.

Joshua Marder is a Rabbi & Licensed Marriage & Family Therapist. Josh is the director of Chicago YJP, a Division of the Lois & Wilfred Lefkovich Chicago Torah Network.

2015-05-14
]]>Oh, You Work Here Now?http://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26367&blogid=142
I have felt looked down upon many times in the various customer service jobs I have held over the years. I’ve often felt the need -- especially when unexpectedly reencountering former classmates -- to explain that my work at the mall/gym/concession stand was only temporary and that I was in fact studying/writing/traveling in my spare time.]]>Lindsey_22015-05-13T16:47:36ZJenna Cohen

I have felt looked down upon many times in the various customer service jobs I have held over the years. I've often felt the need -- especially when unexpectedly reencountering former classmates -- to explain that my work at the mall/gym/concession stand was only temporary and that I was in fact studying/writing/traveling in my spare time, therefore proving that I had not fallen off the proverbial higher education bandwagon and still counted as an achieving member of society.

Looking back, I feel a bit ashamed of these hurried justifications of my social value. So, to cast a more insightful light on the world of mops and punch clocks, here are some of best, weirdest and thought-provoking experiences I've had while working in the service industry.

The Hydrogen Bomb

Well … technically, it was carbon dioxide.

When you go to a snack bar or fast food restaurant, you don't often think about how they make the soda (or pop, if you will). And why would you? When you buy soda at the store, it's already in bottles or cans. There's no assembly required. But at restaurants and snack bars, it works a bit differently. These drinks are assembled right when you order it. Carbon dioxide, water and soda syrup mix together as your cup is filled at the soda fountain, and most days it's a pretty effective system. However, if one of the three elements is missing -- say, carbon dioxide -- the machine stops working.

Fortunately, most kitchen instruments are fairly easily repaired and don't require an engineering degree, and I thought trying my hand replacing the carbon dioxide canister on the soda fountain would fall under that not-too-complicated category. Unfortunately, simple tasks become much more difficult when the instructions are in Japanese.

A coworker and I were in this situation during the lunch rush at the pool-side concession stand where I worked a few years back. We scrambled to the back room and got to work replacing the empty canister with a new one. However, having never before replaced one of these scuba-sized tanks and being illiterate in Japanese, we failed to wedge an apparently very important washer between the intake tube and the tank. This error prevented the carbon dioxide from reaching its intended destination, and instead resulted in something pretty similar to a Roadrunner vs. Wile E. Coyote routine.

Within seconds of turning on the soda fountain, the CO
2
canister decided to make its great escape, propelling itself with the leaking gas all around the back room. Screaming, my coworker and I jumped up and tackled the tank to the ground. Hearts pounding, we sealed the leak and reattached the tank to the soda machine with the metal washer in place. Afterward, we dissolved into hysterical laughter.

The canister fiasco, or The Hydrogen Bomb, as we called it, soon became one of our favorite personal jokes. Even today, I can't look at a soda fountain without smiling and tipping a mental hat to the workers who make that job look simple.

The Teen Philosopher

Working at the pool-side concession stand by my house was one of my favorite summer jobs. The work was gratifying and the people were extremely nice. On busy days at the pool, I was so busy assembling nachos and counting change that I hardly had a moment to think, which was nice in its own way. But on slow days, I could sit and read between visits from hungry customers.

One summer, I was preparing materials for a class on Heroism that I was helping lead as a T.A. for one of my professors. At the time, I had a narrow understanding of heroism that didn't extend much beyond the exploits of Grecian demigods, masked vigilantes, and rescuers of cats from trees. At school, I had a top notch library along with brilliant peers and educators as resources. At the concession stand, however, there were days when the most intellectual conversation I'd have was with the microwave.

Seemingly at a loss for human resources, I sought answers in the pages of books:
The Odyssey
,
King Arthur
,
Harry Potter
, anything I could get my hands on. One afternoon, I was sitting behind the lunch counter with my nose buried in
The Lord of the Rings
when a young voice chimed, "Which one are you reading?" Startled, I looked up and saw my teenage coworker trying to get a closer look at the cover of my book.

"Uh, the first one," I said.

A smile broke out on her face. "That's my favorite," she said.

At first I was surprised; I had previously pegged her as ditzy and not someone not likely to read
The Lord of the Rings
at all, much less have a favorite volume. I was never happier to be wrong, because her knowledge and enthusiasm presented me with an exciting opportunity. Returning her smile, I asked, "Who do you picture when you think of a hero?"

After a thoughtful moment's pause, she answered, "The people who went back during the Boston Marathon."

Reading the confusion on my face, she clarified, "You know, the runners from the Boston Marathon; the ones who were about to finish the race but turned around when they heard explosions to go help the people who got hurt. They could've kept running and won the race, but they chose to go back help the people they were racing against instead. They're real heroes."

Her answer rendered me speechless, not only because it proved that I had totally misjudged her character and intellect, but also because her perspective on heroism was positively inspiring. In addition to teaching me not to "judge a book by its cover," she opened my eyes to the incredible potential of every person, and she will always be my hero for that.

So the next time you stop by your local supermarket or go for a run at the gym, take a moment to consider the person behind the register. Don't assume that their uniform reflects anything but the jobs they are doing at that moment. They deserve respect for the hard work they do, and if you listen, you might learn something.

2015-05-13
]]>Amazing Unbelievable Coincidenceshttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26363&blogid=142
Do you believe in miracles? Of course you maybe do or don’t! In my 28 years on the third rock from the sun (not the TV show, I mean Earth), I’ve experienced a lot that has truly blown my mind]]>Lindsey_22015-05-12T15:18:30ZAdam Daniel Miller

Do you believe in miracles? Of course you maybe do or don't!

In my 28 years on the third rock from the sun (not the TV show, I mean Earth), I've experienced a lot that has truly blown my mind. Outside of once putting a blow dryer too close to my ear, some these experiences include the Blackhawks winning the Stanley Cup for the first time in 48 years, the fact that I've been to Israel on Birthright, and that I once saw a blue car. However, coincidences in which I unexpectedly see people I know are the most amazing moments to me.

I know I'm not alone in this feeling, because when it happens to my dad, he actually writes them down and keeps track of them. Basically, he's keeping track of the universe. If only he had hitchhiked and talked about the galaxy more, he could have written some sort of guide or something. But like my father, I like to appreciate the fantastic and incredible moments in my life, especially when they involve running into someone I know, not only when it's completely unexpectedly, but also when it's in a faraway land. As you'll see, the faraway lands in this blog piece include Minnesota, Milwaukee and O'Hare.

I often fly for work. As would be the case, in this first … case, my flight was cancelled due to people forgetting that Chicago is home to inclement weather. Because of this, I had to book a new flight on an airline I don't usually fly. This new flight was, of course, delayed. I had had enough, so I went to the bar, and as I flashed my ID to the bartender, the man next to me noticed my University of Iowa college ID (from 10 years ago) that is (still) in my wallet. And it just so happens that a gentleman next to me was a history professor there. He too was delayed. Of course, we hit it off immediately, though the bartender was none too pleased that we were hitting things off of his bar. But the point is, so much had to happen perfectly to lead up to that chance meeting to give me an experience I will never forget. But wait, the next two are bigger, better and more personal.

I was on a weekend excursion in the mystical utopia of Milwaukee when who should I run into but an old friend that I hadn't seen a couple years. Now this friend is no ordinary friend. This is Scott, who asked not to be mentioned by name. You all know Scott, for he is great. It's why we call him Great Scott. (No one calls him that.) The thing is, he doesn't live in Milwaukee either. So the fact is, it was absolutely unbelievable that we ran into each other in Milwaukee by happenstance. (I didn't have a chair so I couldn't be happensitting.)

As you well know by now being an avid reader of my blog posts,
I am an introvert and usually I will go out of my way to avoid people, but Scott is one of the few people who I would go in my way to not avoid. In fact, the experience was so incredible that it literally inspired me to write this piece. But yet, there is one more coincidence that must be told.

Me with Great Scott. Look at the love in that hug. Mostly so you stop looking at my butt in that hug.

Of all places, one of the most incredible coincidences in my life took place at the Minneapolis airport. I was coming home from a work trip, just milling about in front of the gate when I saw my uncle. Not just any uncle, but the brother of my father, my father who keeps track of the coincidences of the universe! All the more interesting, my uncle was only on the flight because of things that happened at the last possible moment for him. But here's the kicker (which was luckily not the child in the seat behind me): Not only were we on the same plane coming from a city we both don't live in, but we were also in the aisle seats in the exact same row on the same plane coming from a city we both don't live in. That's right, we sat right across from each other without any knowledge that each one of us would be flying to Chicago from Minneapolis that day. My mind cannot even fathom the odds.

I believe in the Butterfly Effect, which says that the smallest change can have an everlasting ripple effect in future events. I can't comprehend how perfectly every moment leading up to that moment had to be in that absolute correct order in which they took place to make that coincidence happen. It is impressively mind-boggling, and my mind is the only part of me that I'm impressed with when it is boggled.

When it comes to these situations, some people say "it's a small world." When I'm involved, some people will just say, "Adam, stop singing 'It's A Small World.'" But whether you believe everything happens for a reason or not, those times when the chance odds of crossing paths with someone seem so astronomically slim, and yet they still occur are so special. Especially when both me and the coincidencee (I am the coincidencer in this case) are far removed our homes and the usual circles in which our lives operate.

I feel it's important to take note of these moments, because other than my birth, they are the life moments most unlikely to ever happen again. These, my fellow, dashingly attractive Oy! readers, are some of the moments truly worth remembering. Well, that and the blue car.

2015-05-12
]]>Culture of kindnesshttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26337&blogid=142
When I was in junior high, I learned the hard way what it felt like to be bullied. Out of the blue, these three girls who'd been close friends of mine only the day before suddenly started taunting me.]]>Lindsey_22015-05-11T13:44:39ZCindy Sher

When I was in junior high, I learned the hard way what it felt like to be bullied. Out of the blue, these three girls who'd been close friends of mine only the day before suddenly started taunting me.

One day, we were BFFs playing Chinese jump rope and choreographing a dance routine to Paula Abdul's "Opposites Attract." The next, they'd declared war on me. They would imitate my mannerisms, whisper to each other as I'd pass in the halls, and campaign to get other girls not to like me.

It was so devastating to my junior high psyche that I didn't want to go to school. But then, a few weeks later, they re-friended me. As quickly as they'd cut me out, they let me back into their inner circle, but their clique was no longer a place I desired to be.

The experience taught me a lot about how random and cruel people can be to each other.

Of course my story isn't that bad -- and it certainly isn't unique. It's even typical. A few years ago, I attended a BBYO-sponsored anti-bullying forum for an auditorium full of Jewish teens and their families. Members of the crowd were asked to rise if they'd ever "witnessed or been involved in bullying"; every person in the room stood up.

Kids today face a much tougher world than I did. Back when I was in school, a cruel joke or rumor had a short shelf life, confined to one's school or neighborhood. But these days, we all have the power to spread gossip, lies, and venom to millions with one click.

You'd think bullying would stop after high school, but that's just not the case. We urge our children to treat each other with kindness, but we expect them to do as we say -- not as we do.

Face it. We live in a culture of mean -- in politics, on reality shows, in the pages of tabloids where women celebrities who look a pound heavier than they did the week before are paraded on covers to be mocked, and in the anonymous comment sections of practically any seemingly innocuous electronic news story.

What does it feel like to face such constant and inescapable public cruelty, humiliation, and ostracism?

The world got a memorable answer -- a lesson in empathy -- at this year's Oscars. Chicago native Graham Moore inspired millions in his poignant acceptance speech for his adapted screenplay of the film The Imitation Game. It tells the story of Alan Turing, the mathematician who broke the Nazi code, which was essential to the eventual Allied victory over Hitler. Instead of being hailed a hero, Turing, who was gay, was investigated and prosecuted for "homosexual acts" and died, likely from suicide, before his 42nd birthday.

Moore said he related to Turing's story of feeling different, and that he tried to take his own life as teenager. "I felt weird and I felt different and I felt like I did not belong," Moore said in his speech. "…I would like for this moment to be for the kid out there who feels like she's weird or she's different or she doesn't fit anywhere. Yes, you do. I promise you do. Stay weird. Stay different. And then when it's your turn and you are standing on this stage, please pass the same message to the next person who comes along."

Like Moore and Turing, people of all stripes -- but particularly women, minorities, people with disabilities, and the LGBTQ community -- are targets of ridicule. Every week, we read a headline about another kid driven to suicide because they were tormented by bullies either in the flesh or on social networks.

We especially, as Jews, should care deeply about bullying. The issue goes to the very heart of our history and Jewish teachings. After all, just as bullies pick their scapegoats for no reason other than their victims are different from them, we as Jews have been bullied and branded as scapegoats on a grander scale throughout our history.

We should care because our tradition is rooted in kindness. The Torah teaches us most fundamental of all: "Love your neighbor as yourself."

And many other Jewish laws forbid cruelty from every angle. Halbanat panim bids us not to inflict public humiliation; rechilut prohibits statements that are untrue, while lashon harah expands this prohibition to include factually truthful speech that might malign an individual. And we are taught the concept of adam yachid -- that every human being is unique and precious.

Indeed, our community is working to counteract bullying. SHALVA, a JUF beneficiary combatting domestic abuse, and Response, a teen outreach program of Jewish Child and Family Services, both engage children, teens, parents, and teachers through anti-bullying programs.

But faced with a culture of mean, it's not enough to urge our children to teach each other with kindness. We have to practice it ourselves.

Let's not forget that kindness must be passed on to our children -- l'dor vador -- from generation to generation.

If everyone reading this could wake up tomorrow and feel the empathy to be a little kinder to each other -- to our families, to our friends, to strangers on the bus, to the people in our Facebook networks, and yes, even to the celebrities we've never met -- maybe, just maybe, we can change our culture for the better.

SHALVA, the oldest, independent Jewish domestic abuse agency in the United States, is a beneficiary of JUF.

2015-05-11
]]>Bad Mommy in the Bad Bikinihttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26328&blogid=142
Guilty. I was that mean mommy. You know the one all the perfect parents shield their children’s eyes from? Yup, that was me.]]>Lindsey_22015-05-08T13:46:38ZAnnice Moses

Guilty. I was that mean mommy. You know the one all the perfect parents shield their children's eyes from? Yup, that was me.

To make matters worse, it happened on vacation and afterward, I hid in my hotel room hot with shame. My husband, on the other hand, got to be the nice daddy and take the boys surfing on a fake wave and happily played in the pool, never once fretting about how saggy his boobs looked in his four-year-old bikini.

No one knew I hid in shame. My daughter was conveniently feeling sick, so actually I looked like a doting mother forgoing the fun in the sun to take care of her, which honestly made it worse.

It all took place on a beautiful day with a sunny, desert mountain view. We were in a resort town. I didn't have to cook, clean, make the beds or unclog any toilets. I was on vacation. I should have been a happy mommy! I should have been a relaxed mommy!! I should have been an AWESOME mommy!!! But that was not the mommy I was channeling that day.

In part, I am going to blame my newly teenaged teenager. He was quite the typical adolescent on the trip. And although I attempted to quell his angsty derangement, his hormones were seriously killing my R&R. My patience was shot. But he was just the spark. It was actually the kid my teenager insists is my favorite -- my youngest son - who bared the brunt of my mommy-rage.

What led to my embarrassing display wasn't even that serious of an offense. It was one of those, "time to go and put your shoes on" scenarios. It took place at the pool, in front of a bounty of overly tanned and seemingly underfed absolutely perfect mothers with perfect boobs in fresh-off-the-runway bikinis.

After the third calm request of, "We have to go. Please put your shoes on." I'd had it. I snatched him up by his arm and hissed, "Let's go. NOW!!!"

"OWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!" he yowled, and suddenly I felt all sets of eyes on me as the pool area fell silent in disbelief that such trash had slipped through the exclusive and snooty gates. I immediately dropped his arm.

"Come on sweetie," I assured him in my doting, attentive, ever-patient mommy voice that I conjured up on the spot, hoping to ensure the horrified public that the minor in my care for the rest of his life was perfectly safe with the deranged-looking lady with the hopelessly out-of-date bathing suit. "We need to go now. Then we'll get ice cream. And a pony!"

My son skipped off compliantly as I smiled in shame at the head-shaking, tongue-clucking crowd, regretting never having fully completed my tooth-whitening regimen.

I am sure the second I left everyone forgot about me and resumed drinking, tanning and well, drinking, but I just couldn't shake it. It's terrible to have a bad moment with your kid, it's horrendous to have that moment in public with unsympathetic witnesses. And so? What did all this humiliation lead to? It led to me to the realization that I too have been an unsympathetic witness. I too have turned my back on my parental brothers and sisters and I too have judged them in their weakest of public moments.

So to my fellow moms and dads -- whether we wear Jimmy Choo's or flip-flops to the pool! -- the truth is, we are all just trying to keep our heads above the proverbial waters of parenthood. Let's throw lifesavers to one another in place of anchors. And may we always remember the rule: (We are) never swim(ming) alone.

2015-05-08
]]>25 Questions I’m Asking Myself at 25http://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26323&blogid=142
Turning one year older always leads me to think about the state of my life, my goals, and what I want to accomplish in the future. It also causes me to usually feel like I am in some sort of crisis.]]>Lindsey_22015-05-07T15:37:28ZLauren Schmidt

Turning one year older always leads me to think about the state of my life, my goals, and what I want to accomplish in the future. It also causes me to usually feel like I am in some sort of crisis.

I can't tell if I am having an existential crisis about turning 25 because I feel like I am supposed to or because I am actually, kind of, mildly freaking out about moving beyond the 18-24 age bracket. Alas, my nerves are a little more out of whack than usual, meaning they're really out of whack.

As most people who love writing would say, I am confident that the best way of dealing with these overwhelming feelings is to write about it.
That's what I did at 23, too.

So without further ado, here are the top 25 questions that I am asking myself during the week prior to turning a quarter of a century:

1. Does this mean I need to stop stealing the majority of my silverware from Chipotle?

2. What percent of my income has to go to Starbucks to prove that I have a problem?

3. Why is everyone getting engaged? More importantly, how is everyone getting engaged?

4. Seriously, two engagements popped up on my newsfeed while writing this. What is going on?

5. The kind of perfect Jewish boy has to be out there still, right?

6. In the meantime, is it bad that pizza is my most significant other?

7. Similarly, is it still socially acceptable to order Domino's? I am going to keep ordering it no matter what the answer is, but I'd rather just know.

8. How often do you
really
need to wash your hair?

9. At what age is it inappropriate to consider wine an appropriate meal?

10. Will I ever actually accomplish
everything on this list? Is it more likely that I go to Patagonia or run a 5k? At least I go to Israel
Eilat
(see what I did there?) and am no longer
that
scared of the dentist.

11. Can someone just set up my retirement fund(s) for me? Please?

12. Do I really have to go off my family's health insurance next year? Can we just pretend that's a fallacy?

13. Will I ever not be tired? Is everyone else always tired? How do people function without caffeine? Maybe I'm cheating my list by asking three questions within a question. Is that annoying? I'll stop now.

14. Can you OD on hummus? Has anyone ever ODed on hummus? Will I be the first victim?

15. What about allergy meds? Asking for a friend.

16. Similarly, how much tuna do you need to eat to get mercury poisoning?

17. Can something be off fleek? Kidding, don't answer that.

18. Is asking for an assistant an appropriate birthday request?

19. What about a life intern? Is that a thing? Where can I find myself one of those?

20. Will someone teach me how to invest well? How do people just know how to do these things?

21. Is Spotify premium a worthy investment? Probably not. Did I just buy it this week? Of course.

22. Why isn't life more like
Friends?

23. Do I actually need to stop buying things at Forever 21?

24. Can I have a voucher for all the naps I passed up in Kindergarten?

Dr. Alpert works for Midwest Bone and Joint Institute, and you can view his impressive bio
here
. As a sports fan, I was very jealous when he did his Fellowship in Boston and worked with professional sports teams. It was the year the Patriots didn't lose a game until the Super Bowl. Dr. Alpert has been my surgery advisor for years, and recently treated me.

With summer approaching, this is busy season for emergency rooms, physical therapists and doctors. Dr. Alpert offered some tips to avoid those visits.

1. Pain is not normal: Do not work out when you are pain. There is a difference between muscle soreness and pain. Stop working out and talk to a doctor; this is not an Under Armor ad a la "Pain is weakness leaving the body." For overweight exercisers, start slow and focus on eating better before pushing it in the gym. Extra weight is tough on joints.

2. Mix up your workout. If you do the same workout day after day you are more prone to stress fractures (and boredom). You are also strengthening the same muscles day after day, while skipping other muscles, which can lead to muscle imbalance injuries. Runners in particular need to vary the distance, do interval workouts, and strength train to help avoid stress fractures. Although running intervals are hard, they are much easier on your body than running a marathon.

3. Stretching is important. When I first injured my hip, I'll never forget Dr. Alpert telling me, "We're getting older, you need to stretch." Many trainers have different views on stretching, Dr. Alpert recommends 10-15 minutes of stretching post workout. A warm up to start your workout is also helpful. Take a cue from the Patriots and spend a lot of time stretching.

4. Follow the 10% rule. Whether you are running or weight training, increase your speed/weight by no more than 10 percent per workout.

5. Low impact for life. Thirty minutes of low-impact exercise three times a week is a great way to stay in good health and avoid the surgeon's office. Swimming, biking, and the elliptical are much easier on your joints than running.

6. Vary you child's activities. This one's for parents. If your child plays one sport year-round, they are 3.5 times more likely to get injured than children who play multiple sports. If your child is a pitcher, make sure to pay attention to pitch counts and make sure they don't throw back to back days. Make sure your high school or college athletes have supervision during their workouts with either athletic trainers, coaches, physical therapists, personal trainers or coaches. There is no suggested age for beginning a weight-training program, but they should start focusing on form and using light weights at higher reps. In fact, this is a good game plan for all lifters.

7. Be careful with supplements and anti-inflammatory drugs. There are a lot of supplements on the market, and because there's no regulation you have to be very careful. The most popular supplement for joint pain is Glucosamine Chondroitin. If you take it, look for a certification like
NSF
or
USP
: it should be pure Glucosamine Chondroitin and a recommended dosage is 1500 milligrams. Like all supplements it's controversial, but some people feel it helps.

As far as over-the-counter anti-inflammatory drugs such as Advil, work with your doctor on dosages. These pills can really do a number on your stomach and can have other side effects. Aleve is great because it's one pill every 12 hours, so you are taking less pills compared to Advil.

Start off slow this summer and as always, check with your doctor to ensure you are healthy enough to begin exercising. Please email me other topics in the wellness field you would like to hear about at
rkrit@fitwithkrit.com
.

2015-05-06
]]>The 5 Jewish Girls You’ll Date in Your 20shttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26311&blogid=142
If you’re a single 20-something Modern Orthodox Jewish male like me, you are experiencing trying times when it comes to dating. Not only do you need to find someone you’re attracted to, have good chemistry with and who laughs at your jokes, you also need to find someone Jewish.]]>Lindsey_22015-05-05T14:32:43ZAdam J. Miller

If you're a single 20-something Modern Orthodox Jewish male like me, you are experiencing trying times when it comes to dating. Not only do you need to find someone you're attracted to, have good chemistry with and who laughs at your jokes, you also need to find someone Jewish. And if that wasn't hard enough, that person has to be willing to detach from a cell phone for 25 hours during the weekend.

Needless to say, the checklist of what you're looking for suddenly makes it seem like finding the right one is impossible.

Many of us go through cycles where we meet all sorts of girls. Based on my experience and the experience of other Modern Orthodox men I know, I've found there are five types of women who we are most likely to date before we get married.

Your On-Paper Bashert

You met through a Jewish dating site or were set up. Either way, she seems perfect for you. Maybe she loves
How I Met Your Mother
as much as you do, or enjoys a fine scotch on the weekends. When you first start talking to her online, you think she has it all and are jumping up and down to meet her.

However, you go to meet her and she's now what you're looking for. Maybe there's no chemistry or she's too self-absorbed. Maybe you're too self-absorbed. You want to believe you can make it work with her, that this could be something special. So you convince yourself to go out with her once or twice more, but to your disappointment, there's nothing there.

The College Girlfriend

If you were in college, she'd be perfect for you. You feel like you can be yourself around her and the two of you hit it off. The problem is, you two have no future and it's apparent right from the start.

Maybe she has no direction in life, or tells you she's "not looking for something serious." Maybe she always consults her parents before making any sort of decision, such as whether or not to go on vacation with you. Or maybe it's you -- you're not sure what you want just yet. You just don't see eye-to-eye with her on what you want your future to look like.

These girls make great friends and are fun to hang out with, but simply aren't for you in the long term.

The One You Regret

Perhaps you made out with her at a Purim party or spent all your time with her over a Shabbaton. Either way, you quickly realize this isn't college and you need to be a gentleman. You go on a date or two with her only to realize that your conversations are as exciting as watching paint dry.

Sometimes, this girl is on the same page as you. Sometimes, one of you has to be the one to break it off, which is rough, but cooler heads eventually prevail and it becomes an experience you both let go.

The Girl Who Makes You Swear Off Dating

This is the one that hurts. Maybe it was her fault: she stood you up, strung you along or held her past negative dating experiences against you to the point that you felt like you couldn't win. Or maybe she revealed something about you that you that was tough to hear. Either way, you question yourself and even question dating period.

The thing to remember is that while meeting someone like this can hinder your willingness to date, these are the exception more than the norm. And as the saying goes, "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger." At the end of the day, this girl is what's going to make you truly cherish your bashert.

The Crappy Timing Girl

This one causes a different kind of pain. You meet at the most unexpected time, usually just before one of you moves away or makes a big life change. Or you meet and it turns out she's just in town for the week visiting friends. The second you meet her, you think she could really be the one. The problem: this relationship has either no starting point or a definite ending point and there's no way around it.

When you say goodbye, there's not an ounce of resentment in your body and no bad feelings: there is a hope that at some point you reconnect and make it work even though the odds are stacked against you.

---

Whether you've dated all five of these women, or only identify with a couple, remember there is a reason they came into your life. I believe each type ultimately teaches us about ourselves and we are better off for meeting them, even if they're not Mrs. Right. Often, your encounters with each of them provide you with greater clarity and perspective for when you finally find Mrs. Right.

2015-05-05
]]>The Scout Lifehttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26307&blogid=142
After seeing Josh Gershon pop up on Twitter, I knew we had to be in touch. The man is living a dream -- his dream and I am sure many of your dreams: scouting the future of basketball.]]>Lindsey_22015-05-04T14:43:55ZAn interview with basketball scout Josh GershonJeremy Fine

After seeing Josh Gershon pop up on Twitter, I knew we had to be in touch. The man is living a dream -- his dream and I am sure many of your dreams: scouting the future of basketball. We caught up with Gershon, an up-and-coming scout, and learned his awesome story.

1. Tell us a little bit about yourself.
I'm 33, live in Hermosa Beach, California and work as a basketball scout for a living. Being a basketball scout was a dream job of mine as a kid and I'm very fortunate to be able to have made it my career. Between doing what I love for a living, residing on the beach and having incredible friends, family and colleagues, I feel like I have a dream life and am working hard to assure that it will be a lifetime dream life.

2. What is Scout.com and how did you get involved in it?
Scout is a digital media network that has a large collection of websites, many focusing on college sports team coverage, but the Scout brand has websites specializing in college basketball and football recruiting, NFL, MLB, etc. I covered University of Arizona Athletics during and after college for Scout's rival, Rivals.com, and was able to work my way up to being offered a job by Scout as a West Coast recruiting analyst in 2011. I was recently promoted to National Recruiting Analyst and NBA Scouting Analyst; as we grow into the NBA space, I'll be evaluating college prospects for draft coverage.

3. What makes Scout.com unique?
As far as basketball recruiting, we have four full-time experts and the amount of resources we pour into scouting and covering the entire country is second to none. The majority of websites scouting high school basketball have just one full time expert and Scout has invested into dominating this market space.

4. Does scouting lead to coaching and would you coach given the opportunity?
I've had some opportunities to get into college coaching but it's not something I currently -- or ever really -- foresee myself being interested in. I'm investing everything into being a great basketball scout and think that getting involved in coaching would only distract me from that path. I have several close friendships with coaches and use those relationships to continue to gain knowledge about the game but being an actual coach isn't an interest of mine.

5. Which player do you look forward to in this draft? Any surprises?
It sounds obvious because he was the best player in college basketball this season, but since he's not unanimously considered a top 10 guy, I'll go with Wisconsin's Frank Kaminsky. He's a legit 7-foot power forward with terrific footwork, scoring and shooting ability, ball skills for his size and craftiness. Add that to the fact he's mentally elite and an intense competitor and you have someone who is bound to overachieve at the next level in the same way he did in college.

6. Did you play basketball as a kid? Were you any good?
I played up until high school and eventually got distracted by everything else going on when you're that age and stopped trying. I mean I was a 5-foot-8 power forward and there's not a big market value for those anyway and I certainly wasn't anyone that someone would have considered a good player. But I was extremely competitive and really only cared about defending and rebounding, which is funny because those are the characteristics I'm drawn to as a scout. Understanding that no matter how hard you try, there are many things you just can't overcome physically has been an important lesson for me as a scout. As hard as I tried, there was nothing I could do to be a good basketball player, despite my love for it. I'm thankful I've been able to take my passion for the sport and make it my life's work.

7. What was your Jewish upbringing like?
Even though I had a conservative bar mitzvah and education, I was raised as a Reform Jew and my family went to synagogue together every week growing up. We observed Jewish traditions at home and celebrated high holidays. My parents raised me to be proud of my heritage. The Jewish community in basketball is very strong and loyal and there have been several Jews who have believed in me, supported me and helped me grow as I've moved up the ladder. I'm very thankful to have that kind of support.

8. Lakers or Clippers? Mamba or CP3? Jack Nicholson or Billy Crystal?
Clippers. CP3 is one of my favorite players. Love his mental toughness for the point guard position. Intense competitor with extremely high skill set and basketball IQ. It would be hard to care about winning as much as he does. So definitely CP3 over Kobe. I feel bad going against Crystal and his awesome sense of humor, but Nicholson is one of the coolest actors ever. When I think about Los Angeles, which I now call home, he's one of the first people I think of.

9. Anything else we should know and where can we follow you?
One of the best parts of the job for me isn't just developing and growing into a successful scout, but also the opportunity to help kids get scholarships and chase their dreams. There have been several instances in which a player, often from a tough situation in which his family couldn't afford to send him to college, didn't have any scholarship offers and I've helped them land a full ride. I'm fully invested into maximizing my talent and having a great career but along the way I hope to have a big impact on the community as well and I feel like that's starting to happen and it's a very rewarding feeling. You can follow me on Twitter --
@JoshGershon

2015-05-04
]]>Taking Care and Taking Actionhttp://www.oychicago.com/blog.aspx?id=26303&blogid=142
The rabbis at Sixth and I Historic Synagogue sent out a message acknowledging how the world can be a challenging place to live, and this week was far from an exception.]]>Lindsey_22015-05-01T15:04:44ZAndy Kirschner

The rabbis at
Sixth and I Historic Synagogue
sent out a message acknowledging how the world can be a challenging place to live, and this week was far from an exception. An earthquake shook Nepal and left thousands of people dead. Violence broke out in Baltimore after the funeral of Freddie Gray. The Supreme Court heard the case for marriage equality and protestors shouted loudly outside the building, denouncing homosexuals as sinners. The rabbis made a compelling call to action, and reading their words, I realized how I had missed an opportunity to take tha